


Different isn’t a bad thing

by Pielotdameron



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: ADHD Obi-Wan, Autistic Obi-Wan Kenobi, Cuddling, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Obi-Wan Kenobi Gets a Hug, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan are the best change my mind, Sensory Overload, Young Obi-Wan Kenobi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:00:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 22,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25883233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pielotdameron/pseuds/Pielotdameron
Summary: Being a padawan is difficult enough without all the additional stuff, thank you very much, so whoever gave it to him, can kindly take it right back.Obi-Wan’s adventures in padawanship with the bonus of occasionally absolutely hating himself.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 144
Kudos: 184





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is just me self projecting, but there probably will be more so uhm-

Different wasn’t a bad thing. Different wasn’t a bad thing. Different wasn’t a bad thing. Obi-Wan scratched at his arm underneath his robes, trying his best to stay still. The councils eyes were all on him, scrutinising, evaluating.

Different wasn’t a bad thing.

He stilled his hands, fixing his eyes on Master Windu. The difference in importance was blinding from this angle, and he carefully looked up and around the room, surveying his options. His master had gone on a self-proclaimed mission, had been gone for a week, and the council had finally noticed, despite Obi-Wan doing his best to cover the wayward master’s tracks. He’d been called in that morning, and up until now had thought he was doing a good job of lying.

Master Yoda’s piercing gaze suggested otherwise, and he dug his nails into his wrist, keeping his breathing steady. He couldn’t get distracted, he had to stay calm, one with the force.

But the pretty skyline of Coruscant caught his eye, and he quickly found himself helpless to draw his focus back as the people bustled about below, the hover cars travelled by. His gaze was drawn to the lights above, the buildings in the distance-

“PADAWAN KENOBI.” Master Windu’s loud yell had him jumping half out of his skin, his hands shaking when he turned slowly to face them, his face flushing a dark shade of pink when he realised he’d walked across the entire room in his distracted state. His heart was racing, but he forced himself to meet the Masters eyes, his shoulders hunched guardedly in case he shouted at him again.

“Do you mind telling the rest of us in this room what was so fascinating you could not listen to the rest of my sentence?” The master sounded…disappointed? Obi-Wan felt his heart ache, and he didn’t even think of the words before they were tumbling past his lips in his rush to stop them being disappointed in him.

“I’m very sorry Master Windu, I mean no offence. I have not been sleeping very well, and I couldn’t keep my concentration. I apologise for my insolence.” He ducked down into a bow and didn’t rise again, his breathing threatening to stop being so steady.

“Stand up, you will, Padawan Kenobi.” Yoda’s voice startled him and he didn’t think twice about standing up straight, locking his arms together under his robes when he met the small Masters eyes.

“Excused you are, Padawan Kenobi. Contact your master, we will, alert him of your predicament.” The Master sounded so sure, and Obi-Wan found he had no choice but to bow and agree. His heart was still thumping loudly in his ears even as he left the council chambers, and the moment he was around the corner his breathing picked up. He pinned himself into an alcove, a hand cupped over his mouth in an attempt to keep quiet, willing the other padawans to stay away. It was costing him extra energy to keep his training bond closed, but he was entirely unwilling for his master to find out about his near-panic over simply being yelled at. He took an unsteady breath and scanned the hallway before tugging his hands out from under his robes. His fingers immediately flew to his padawan braid, tugging and looping the long strand of hair between them. Shoulders relaxing slowly, he shifted from anxious tugging to calmly running his fingers over the beads, running blunt nails over the smooth surface as his breathing slowed, his eyes finally stopped flicking from one hallway to another. Reluctantly, he tucked his hands back into his sleeves, heading back towards his and Master Qui-Gon’s quarters. Technically, he should be training right now, but he couldn’t handle the thought of so much physical contact, would much rather curl up in privacy and complete his studies. That sounded like a good idea. A great idea in fact. He went the rest of the way down the hall with a smile, taking the stairs two at a time and resisting the urge to run to get to his quarters quicker.

The door slid open when he fumbled with the code, and he urgently tugged his outer robe off, carefully hanging it in the doorway, flipping the light switch with the force so he wouldn’t have to touch the cold metal. The dim lights bathed the room and he took his first fully relaxed breath at the sight of the organised quarters. He collected his holo from his sleeping quarters, carefully pulling his blanket from his bed in a way that wouldn’t disrupt everything else; He boiled the kettle, taking it off the heater before it could whistle and hurt his ears; He poured his tea into the same mug he always used, and contentedly curled up on the couch, tucking his legs under him and wrapping the blanket over them, wriggling his toes when the fluff tickled his feet. His holo flickered to life, and to his dismay he realised he’d already done all his homework. There was no harm in doing extra work, and he smiled to himself as he scrolled through the archives, beginning to hum under his breath as he read, eyes scanning over the screen carefully.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gon always seems to understand Obi-Wan, and things always seem a little less terrifying when he’s there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I got some lovely comments on the last chapter, and they motivated me so much I wrote all this out in one sitting! In the next chapter we get to some sparring and stuff, this is sort of the set up to that

By the time his fidgeting picked back up it was dark, and he felt distinctly sleepy. But there were footsteps in the room, and he shot upwards, catching his blanket but leaving his holo to crash to the ground. He realised his mistake and bent down to pick it up, but hissed when his blanket almost touched the ground. In an attempt to stop the blanket but also pick up his holo, he twisted himself, tumbling over onto the couch and as a result tangling himself into his blanket. The intruder hung his outer robe besides Obi-Wan’s, kicking his shoes off, and as Obi-Wan tried to right himself he caught his masters eye across the room, and let all his breath out in a puff of relief.

“Good evening padawan mine.” There was a barely hidden smirk in Qui-Gon’s voice, and for the second time that day he went scarlet in embarrassment. He tried to flatten his clothes so he looked less rumpled, but knew he’d failed horribly judging by the grin his master hid behind his hand as he came closer. He didn’t touch, and kept his voice soft. Obi-Wan couldn’t be more grateful if he tried, and he found himself slumping back in his seat.

“Good evening master. I apologise, I must have fallen asleep studying.” His jaw cracking yawn proved his statement, and they shared a little smile.

“Rough day? I heard the council talked to you today, are you feeling alright?” Qui-Gon knew him so well, and when his gentle hand cupped his neck and lightly scritched his hair, Obi-Wan completely melted. He hated contact with a burning passion, but somehow, when he had his masters warm hand on his neck, everything else fell into the background.

“Mmmaster Windu yelled at me.” He started physically melting into the little touches, and soon enough he was mildly falling asleep.

“Oh I’m sorry padawan mine, that must have been horrible.” His master settled beside him, and Obi-Wan was so far asleep he didn’t notice when the man gently scooped him up. In fact, the only reason he noticed he wasn’t on the couch anymore was because the warmth vanished. His fingers clenched around his blanket and he relaxed further, breathing deeply around the comfort. The gentle hand brushed his cheek, and then the lights around him dimmed. He let himself slip effortlessly into sleep, and for once his nightmares let him be.  
  


When he woke the next morning, the smell of tea was in the air. He dressed in his robes swiftly, and reluctantly released his blanket onto the bed, folding everything into the middle as he passed. He ran a hand through his short hair, had his usual moment of annoyance there wasn’t more to run through, and then calmly stepped out into the bright presence of his master. The man was whistling, relaxed, so Obi-Wan didn’t have the heart to stop him. It was only mildly uncomfortable, and he’d come to get used to a level of discomfort while he was in the temple. Nobody else here seemed to have his issue, but that was okay. Different wasn’t a bad thing. He didn’t verbally greet his master, but still the older man gave him the largest smile when he settled into a dining chair, fidgeting on the wood until he got as close to comfortable as he could manage.

“Good morning Obi-Wan, did you sleep well?” The master paused, clearly searching for something, and when he nodded his head in answer, a smile settled back on his face and he returned to pouring tea. Obi-Wan relaxed a little. His master wouldn’t make him talk unless he was ready, and he breathed easier knowing it wouldn’t be taken as a sign of insolence.

That had always been his main source of panic when he was a young padawan, and he’d pushed his limits to no end to avoid confrontation about the issue. Now everyone just thought he was shy, but that worked better for him anyway, so he couldn’t complain.

His master was watching him again, and he realised he must have been asked a question. He’d been too lost in thought again, and he offered his master an apologetic smile.

“It’s alright padawan, I was just wondering wether you feel like sparring today.” That was the key thing for Obi-Wan. Being asked. He thought a little while, and then slowly nodded. He hadn’t sparred in awhile, and he was going to get rusty if he didn’t soon. If his master was willing to spar with him, he should take the chance. And he’d clearly made the right choice, because Qui-Gon was smiling at him, pushing a little bowl of cereal towards him. He never ate much for breakfast, and after a while Qui-Gon had caught on to the habit and started making him smaller bowls. He felt much better about each of his strange habits each time Qui-Gon didn’t comment on one. He realised he’d been fiddling with his braid, but he didn’t stop himself, just picked up the spoon with his other hand. There was blissful quiet for a while as they ate breakfast, and up until he stood to take their dishes he’d felt almost boneless in his calm.

His fingers brushed the edge of what remained of Qui-Gon’s eggs, and his heart somersaulted right down into his stomach, making him feel a little sick. He put the plates down with shaking hands, and slumped back in his chair, feeling like a complete failure. It was an egg, not a bomb, and yet he couldn’t stop himself shaking, his shoulders hunching.

“Hush, Obi-Wan, it’s alright. Look at me.” A soft voice broke through his own inner rambling, and he blinked at Qui-Gon, looking right through him. Clearly sensing that wasn’t working, his master put a gentle pressure over their training bond, bringing his attention to that instead of how unclean he felt suddenly. He shook his head firmly, trying to calm himself down, but nothing was working. The air felt a little too tight, and he looked at Qui-Gon, silently pleading for his help. Strong arms lifted him up, and he tucked his face into his masters neck, feeling like a little child again. He sank into the feeling, and slowly, as he tracked the older mans steady heartbeat, his own breathing slowed, and his hands unclenched from where he’d fisted them in long hair. He lost himself in petting through his masters hair, and the man didn’t stop him, shifting his weight to one arm and taking the dishes to the washer with his other. Qui-Gon didn’t put him down, but did settle down on the couch with a holo book, waiting patiently for Obi-Wan to feel calm enough to stop petting his hair.

He didn’t feel like he ever would, and as the strands ran through his fingers he let out soft little sighs, barely resisting the urge to braid it. He physically shook himself, and Qui-Gon clearly felt it, because he sent him a light question through their bond. Reluctantly, he pulled his hands away and uncurled himself from his master, putting distance between them as he rolled off the couch, landing carefully.

“Are you alright now Obi-Wan?” The use of his name calmed his nerves a little further, and he unsteadily sank back into the earlier calm, which now felt so fragile.

He could offer no more than a nod, but it was enough, because his master was pulling himself to his feet, powering down his holo, crossing the room in long strides. A flickering light on the wall caught his eye, and he found himself watching it contentedly, enjoying the way it bounced from one wall to the next. His master had his boots on when he returned, offering out his hand, and Obi-Wan didn’t think twice about taking the help and tugging himself up. His own boots slipped on easily, old worn leather moulded around his feet, and he hummed as he carefully tucked the bottom of his trousers into them. The lights were off, and the door slid closed behind them as Obi-Wan clipped his lightsaber to his belt. There was a little scrap on leather on the hilt, stopping his fingers touching the metal, and he sighed calmly when his hand brushed it each time he walked. His master didn’t slow down, but did check on Obi-Wan to make sure he wasn’t falling behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if there’s any particular habits or stims you want Obi-Wan to show, and I’ll try and include them for you 💕


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sparring is going well, for the most part, but Obi-Wan doesn’t trust that peace to last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally called it a dojo because it was the only term I could think of 😂 enjoy my attempt at writing something resembling action

When they reached the training dojo, there were already multiple master-padawan pairs inside, and Obi-Wan had to take a deep breath to calm himself before walking in. It felt as though they were all staring at him, but the logical part of his brain knew that not to be true, so he instead focused on Qui-Gon’s broad back as the man shrugged off his outer robes, folding them over a chair. Obi-Wan checked around him carefully, finding the others engaged in training, before following suit, feeling uncomfortably exposed. He scratched at his arm as he carefully warmed up, unable to keep his fidgeting at bay when he was doing such slow moves.

“We can return to studies, if you would prefer?” He turned slowly to meet his masters eyes, and shook his head. He may be a little shaky right now, but that wouldn’t stop a Sith trying to kill them, so he stubbornly unsheathed his lightsaber, only running his fingers over the leather once before he settled into a defensive Soresu stance, shifting his feet across the ground until he felt balanced. His master looked to be debating their spar after all, but eventually settled into the familiar Form V that he favoured. The force was smooth around him, and he sank into the familiar sensation of weightlessness, waiting for his masters first move. He almost closed his eyes, trusting in the force, but he wasn’t there yet, and he fixed his gaze on the hazy green of Qui-Gon’s saber, set to training mode like his own. It would still hurt if the shocks hit him, but wouldn’t leave any permanent damage. There was a flicker of light on the wall, and Obi-Wan had to pointedly turn away in order to ignore it, his brain screaming at him to investigate the shiny reflection on the wall.

The crackle of training blades knocking together startled him, and his shoulder jolted with the force of a badly blocked hit. He narrowed his eyes at where his master was beginning to circle him, and slowly rotated, keeping his lightsaber raised to compensate for their height difference. This time, when his master swung down, he put his own weight behind his saber, rising to meet the hit and only circling away once Qui-Gon pulled back. Although it was blatantly obvious his master was holding himself back, the strength in each of his hits still threatened to knock Obi-Wan off balance. To his own surprise, he felt himself moving forwards, a shaky attempt at Ataru that gave his master the perfect opportunity for a strike. But it seemed the move had surprised Qui-Gon too, because he’d settled back into Soresu stance by the time his master swung again, a low sweep that he carefully leapt over, landing with bent knees.

It was like a switch had flipped because then they were moving, lightsabers clashing, sending sparks flying as they spun and weaved around one another, so familiar with one another in the force that neither could land a hit. For once, Obi-Wan’s brain was quiet, like it always got when he sparred with his master, and he sunk into the force, letting himself feel each move before it arrived, spinning on his heel to counteract a high move, dipping his weight to the left when a strike came for his side, pushing off the mat when another low hit came for his unguarded shins. He ducked when a well-timed strike almost caught him, and rolled to place himself behind Qui-Gon. The dojo had fallen silent, but Obi-Wan only briefly noted eyes on his back before the Force was warning him again, and he slid backwards to avoid a back hand heading his way. Qui-Gon twisted himself to meet Obi-Wan’s first attacking move, and was forced to lunge to the side when Obi-Wan swung again in quick succession. There was a thin line of sweat on his forehead, and his breathing was a little fast, but Obi-Wan knew he must look much the same. He didn’t feel tired at all, and he fell easily into attacking this time, the force humming around him with his energy as he bobbed, weaved, tied his master in knots to keep up with him. At some point, the taller man had stopped holding back, because their lightsabers were clashing quicker, quicker, and Obi-Wan was panting too, the room a blur as he spun around again, spinning his lightsaber in his hand to match the change in position. He carefully made a figure eight behind himself, using the added momentum to build up power in his next strike, hitting surprisingly close before he was knocked away again, meeting him in a lock-on. Grinning at his master, he pushed back, but clearly Qui-Gon had had enough of him getting away, because with one sure push Obi-Wan was tumbling, landing flat on his back with a blade at his chest, crackling at far too close a proximity for his liking. A thud echoed through the silent dojo as he dropped his saber, followed by loud clapping that rung in his ears, making his head feel like it was being grated. He took a deep breath, and when he pushed up gently, his master let him use his arm for support, and he smiled. There was a whoop from the gathered crowd, and he couldn’t restrain himself from flinching a little violently towards his master, seeking the comfort. The master wrapped a strong arm around him and steered him gently towards the water station, smiling back at the crowd.

“Off with you, padawans, see if you can’t use what you just witnessed in your own training.” His voice was a rumble from so close up, and Obi-Wan relaxed, knowing the crowd would disperse now. Sure enough, footsteps and chatter filled the room as the padawans went back to their own mats, leaving Obi-Wan to drink his water in peace. He called his lightsaber hilt to his hand, and caught the cylinder when it flew towards him. Unable to help himself, he flipped it once for effect before clipping it back to his belt. His master chuckled beside him.

“I’m glad to see you’re feeling so confident padawan mine. That was a good fight, you should be proud of yourself.” Qui-Gon only offered out praise when he really meant it, and Obi-Wan flushed in embarrassment, waving him off. He received another laugh for his efforts, but he really didn’t mind.

“How do you feel about attempting some hand to hand combat?” He froze. It had been a long time since he could complete a hand to hand spar without panicking, especially after his first padawan mission, but he didn’t want to let his master down any more than he already had by losing his fight, so he smiled and nodded. It couldn’t be all bad.

“I’ll give you a moment. Just return to the mat when you’re ready.” A warm hand brushed his shoulder, and he tensed slightly. His master must have felt the involuntary movement, but he didn’t comment, simply returned to the mat to start warming up his stances again, his lightsaber placed carefully on his folded robes.

Obi-Wan took a shaky breath. It would be fine. He would be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 👉🏼👈🏼


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hand to hand combat goes about as well as Obi-Wan expected.
> 
> Which means not at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear Obi-Wan will be allowed a good day soon 😭

Even wrapping the fighting cloth carefully around his wrist and knuckles had him tense beyond belief, the rough fabric rubbing uncomfortably between his fingers. He felt the urge to itch the skin underneath, but pointedly ignored his brain, slowly returning to the mat and settling into a neutral stance, awaiting instruction.

“Why don’t you try attacking me this time padawan. Your strength lies in your strong defence, but you must not underestimate your own talents.” His master carefully raised his arms into a block, and Obi-Wan mimicked him, calling on his basic training from a few years ago. It had been far too long since he attacked a moving target, so his first hit missed entirely, despite Qui-Gon staying completely still. His face flushed in embarrassment, the brief contact setting his skin alight, making him feel as though he were burning alive, and he couldn’t meet his masters eyes when he tried again, the hit landing despite it being completely sloppy. He tried again, but there was no power behind it, restrained by his reluctance for extended contact. Patience. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes, feeling the force as it flowed calmly around him.

His next hit landed solid on Qui-Gon’s right arm, and when he opened his eyes his master was smiling at him, and he offered a shaky one back. They both relaxed again into each other’s force signatures, beginning to bob and weave again. His master threw punches, making him duck, but always drew them back before they landed. Everything was fine for a while, a steady back and forth, but then Obi-Wan’s thoughts were drifting off, and he wasn’t at the training dojo anymore. His masters fist connected with his shoulder and he went stumbling back, caught completely off guard. He couldn’t get his feet under himself quick enough, and he was on the floor before he knew it, arms thrown over his face to protect himself. He felt shaky, and didn’t try to get up yet, knowing he would just fall back down.

“Padawan? Are you alright?”his masters voice was distanced, like he was speaking from far away, and Obi-Wan felt his hands slip to cover his ears before he could remind himself not to.

“Obi-Wan, look at me.” The thought of opening his eyes made him feel sick, but he forced himself to blink them open, meeting Qui-Gon’s worried gaze and trying to force a smile. He knew he’d failed, and cupped his hands more tightly around his ears, blocking out the buzz of background noise that seemed to reach a crescendo that echoed through his skull. He flinched when he was lifted off the ground, but Qui-Gon didn’t pull his hands away from his ears. The tall master gathered their things in his other hand, clipping their lightsabers to his belt, and Obi-Wan was shaking when they eventually left the room.

“ _I can walk_.” He used their bond, feeling completely mortified that people could see him being carried around like a youngling.

“Hush padawan. We’re going back to our quarters to change, then we’re going to the gardens to meditate.” Qui-Gon didn’t sound upset with him, and he sighed, slowly removing his hands from his ears as he relaxed into the feeling of being close to his master. He forced his hands to stay away from any hair, and rubbed little circles on his middle finger instead to try and calm his shot nerves. It wasn’t entirely successful, and to his utter mortification, they bumped into master Windu in the hallway. They’d already been noticed, it was too late to try and climb down, so he went for the second best option and buried his burning face in Qui-Gon’s neck.

“Good morning Master Windu.” Qui-Gon, curse him, stopped to make pleasant conversation, and Obi-Wan felt a little unwell knowing it was immediately obvious who he was.

“Good afternoon Master Jinn. You’ve been training for a long time, I hope it has been fruitful?” Master Windu sounded… it was difficult to place the emotion, but it wasn’t kind, and Obi-Wan clenched his fist in the back of his masters robes. Qui-Gon, to his credit, didn’t even flinch.

“Ah but of course. I may have swung a little too hard with my saber, caught my padawan across the legs.” No such thing had happened, but he spoke with such conviction that Obi-Wan almost believed him despite having been there.

“In that case I wish you a fruitful mediation.” Master Windu must have bowed, because he felt his master dip slightly before the gentle rocking of his footsteps continued, carrying them back to their quarters. Obi-Wan couldn’t relax until they were there, but to his relief they weren’t that far away, and soon enough Qui-Gon was switching on the light, gently setting him down on his feet. Other than a slight roll of his shoulder, Qui-Gon showed no signs of bother after carrying him around, and Obi-Wan offered him a grateful smile. His master returned the soft look and turned towards the fresher without a word, letting Obi-Wan settle back into the privacy of their quarters. He breathed deeply through his nose, letting all his air out in one long puff. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan calms down once home, and finds himself easily relaxing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan is finally having a good day, my guilt kicked in aha

It was easy to lose himself in it, and before he knew it his master had returned, hair loose and damp. Obi-Wan itched to run his hands through it, but only smiled at his master, heading over to the fresher himself.

“Careful little one, there’s a puddle near the doorway.” He blinked back at his master, and then he was chuckling under his breath, heading via his room to collect his robes before entering the fresher. Sure enough, there was a little puddle by the door, and he carefully sidestepped, dropping a fresh towel on the ground, knowing the heated tiles would make it fluffy and warm for when he got out. He stepped under the shower head and carefully pressed the button down with the force, flinching away when cold water hit his back. The water stayed unpleasant for a few moments before slowly warming up, making the steady spray feel more like a pleasant massage than being pelted with hail. He relaxed his aching shoulder, rubbing it absently with one hand as he went through the familiar motions of getting clean. This was the only time he felt grateful for the standard buzz cut that padawans sported, because he could wrap himself up in the towel and sit on the heated tiles for a few moments without his hair dripping all over him, and he hummed contentedly, so distracted by the tune he was singing he didn’t even notice he’d easily pressed the metal button, and he stepped carefully across the tiles and gathered his towel up, letting out an audible sigh as he curled up for a moment against the wall.

“There will come a soldier…” he sang to himself, softly, his voice a little rusty from not speaking all morning. He felt relaxed.

“Who carries a mighty sword, he will tear your city down…” the fluffy towel brushed his face and he hummed at how close it felt to his blanket, warm and dry and comfort all at once.

“O lei o lai o lord.” He reluctantly stood, humming the next verse under his breath as he dried himself off slowly and tugged his robes on, the fabric sticking where his skin was still damp. For once, he ignored the unpleasant feeling, and instead focused on drying his braid carefully, running his fingers over the slippery beads as he threw his towel in the dryer. Leaving the fresher much calmer than he entered it, he dumped his dirty robes in the little basket at the foot of the bed, then returned to their main quarters to find his master settled on a cushion on the ground, already meditating. For barely a moment, he allowed himself to appreciate how happy his master looked when meditating, but then he shook himself and crossed the room silently, crossing his legs and doing his best to settle. A hover car passed their window and he itched to go to the window and follow it with his eyes, but he forced himself to centre, focus only on the gentle thrumming energy around them, the solidity of his masters bright spark echoing in the force as it danced around him. He could feel himself smiling, and closed his eyes, sinking into the feeling of the force as it moved and jumped around him, ever in motion, ever shifting to assist another Jedi in their quest for peace. His breathing steadied all on its own, and he silently congratulated himself on finding his peace so quickly, and gave himself a point for not needing his masters help for once. Usually it would take a lot of tea and breathing exercises before he was calm enough to sit still and attempt meditation, but clearly his little panic after training had drained him more than he thought, because he leaned back, straightening himself into proper meditation posture and breathing steadily, at peace with the force as they moved together.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, focused only on his breathing, but he didn’t even notice when his master got up and started pottering quietly around their quarters. Boneless once more, sleepy and content, his head resting on the edge of the couch. Technically speaking, a padawan should always be in proper form, but in that moment he didn’t care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter they have a little bit of a talk!
> 
> Yknow, communication and stuff


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon have a little talk.

“Padawan, I hate to interrupt you, but your comm has been going almost constantly.” He blinked one eye open reluctantly, meeting the taller mans gaze with a sleepy smile.

“Mmmkay. Is probably Bant.” His voice was raspy, and he laughed quietly at himself, feeling too good to mind his lack of silver tongue. Sure enough, when his holo flickered to life, there were a good few notifications from his professors, but mostly texts from his closest friend, poking and prodding him. Normally, he would hate being ribbed and totally ignore her, but he felt good, and replied with an equally snarky text, grinning at the screen like a maniac.

“How are you feeling?” His master stayed a comfortable distance away, but did offer out a steaming mug of tea when Obi-Wan stood slowly, cracking his back and settling onto the couch more comfortably, exercising his jaw.

“Much better thank you master. I apologise for reacting like that, it wasn’t very Jedi of me.” He offered the man a smile, and his master relaxed beside him, his drying hair combed into a ponytail at some point.

“You do not have to answer, but may I ask what caused the reaction? You are not in trouble, I assure you.” His voice was politely curious, and Obi-Wan sighed, nodding. He more than owed the man some answers.

“Back when I was a junior padawan, during one of your off planet excursions, the council decided I was the perfect candidate for the new mission to that blasted ice planet, Hoth. It went fine, but near the end of the week I got caught in a snowstorm, which would have been okay had I not been sprung on. To this day I have no idea who my attacker was, but we brawled for a while before he got a lucky hit in, knocked me to the ground. The cold startled me, and he got another hit on my temple. I woke up to freezing cold and a clear sky. I don’t know how long I was out in that snow, but if you remember, I was very unwell for a few weeks before you insisted I went to a healer, and they promised to brush it off as a flu caught from a new planet.” Surprisingly, he didn’t panic, didn’t even get distracted, he just sighed, strangely relieved to get the little secret off his chest. The snow had been so encompassing, and to this day he couldn’t touch anything colder than a glass of water.

“I’m.. very sorry to hear that padawan mine. I did not intend to be away-“ throwing caution to the wind, Obi-Wan hushed him, grinning at the shock in his masters face.

“With all due respect, Master Qui-Gon, don’t even think about blaming yourself. I was foolish, and young, nothing could have been done about that.” He shrugged, sipping his tea and letting out a soft sound of appreciation, settling his hands around his mug contentedly. His master sure knew how to brew tea.

“Ah, of course padawan. That won’t stop me feeling a little guilt for not being there at the time.” Obi-Wan smiled softly at him, noticing how the older man tapped a finger against his knee, a habit of Obi-Wan’s that must have imprinted. It made him feel safe.

“It’s alright, it just makes hand to hand combat a little… uncomfortable.” They settled into peaceful silence, basking in the calm of their open bond, no need for any mental shields so soon after releasing emotions into the force. There was nothing to hide, and Obi-Wan let himself fidget, fingers tapping against the inside of his wrist in a little drumming pattern he eventually recognised as the same song he was singing before. He smiled, calm.

His holo buzzed, and he couldn’t stifle his snort of rather undignified laughter. According to Bant, he resembled a pile of bantha shit, and the visual in his mind had him doubling over, trying his hardest to stifle his laughter. His master offered no more than a fond eye roll, and Obi-Wan relaxed, still chuckling quietly. He replied with a photo of a bantha before powering the pad down, his foot tapping. Refreshed after his success with meditation, he felt the need to be on the move again, and he finally allowed himself to cross to the window, bouncing slightly on the edges of his feet as he appreciated the view, eyes flicking between crowds of civilians as he lost interest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m actually running out of ideas. Any suggestions are welcome 😅


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start looking dark again when Obi-Wan gets assigned a new mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is mostly set up for the actual mission, it literally just exists to make Obi-Wan suffer

“Would you like to meditate further in the gardens?” his master had moved at some point and he smiled up at him, running his fingers through his buzzed hair.

“It shouldn’t hurt to do so, Master.” He closed his eyes, pulling his attention away from the window. He carefully called his lightsaber to his hand, the weight comforting when he wrapped his fingers around the leather, running over the material w few times before clipping it back to his belt, tightening the clasp of his belt as he went. Straightening out his robes, he ran an anxious hand over them a few times, before moving back over to his boots, reluctance to leave his quarters mixing with his love of the gardens themselves, how strong the living force was when he meditated there.his apprehension left him walking on autopilot, and he and his master were across the hallway and down the stairs before he’d even registered opening the door. It wasn’t doing anyone any harm, so he hummed, letting his body pilot itself, following his master.

Which is why he crashed into his broad back when they came to a sudden halt, the force delayed in its warning thanks to his distraction. Curious, he peered around his masters side, only to flush in embarrassment when it was Master Yoda standing before them, a calculating look on his face that Obi-Wan couldn’t interpret very well.

“Good to see you, it is Master Qui-Gon, Padawan Kenobi. However, positive news, I do not bring.” Obi-Wan was suddenly on high alert, anxious about what the Master could say.

“Do you have a mission for us, Master?” Qui-Gon’s voice was a soothing rumble, and Obi-Wan’s shoulders uncurled slightly.

“A mission I have indeed. To Hoth, we must send you. Trouble is brewing there, we think.” No.

No. No, that couldn’t seriously be happening. He tried to take a steady breath, but he found his feet moving, only half hearing as his Master agreed for them to take the mission before he was running, broken into a full, frantic sprint, using the force to push himself more quickly. He couldn’t go back there. He just couldn’t. Skidding into the gardens and racing along the cobbled path without missing a beat, he scanned his area. There, his tree in the corner of the gardens. If he could make it up there, most people wouldn’t think to bother him.

Rather than slow down when he got closer to the tree, he sped up, springing up off the mossy ground and flipping himself forwards, landing clumsily on the top branch. For a heart-stopping moment the branch swayed threateningly, like it would refuse his weight, but then the force was settling around him, singing softly to him as the leaves swayed in the slight breeze. His blood pumping in his ears, he slumped back, and pushed out in the force, a wordless command for others to leave him be. The branches of the tree seemed to bend to cover him, but he put that down to a side effect of his buzzing mind, flashing through old memories like a poorly constructed holo film.

Tears would not come to him, but he felt cold. He closed his eyes, and attempted a meditative daze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How am I doing?👉🏼👈🏼


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan feels a little better after some careful thought, and he agrees to go to Hoth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A longer chapter since the last one was short.
> 
> Still setting up the mission lol, next chapter will be some action!

Nothing was working, and he struggled to find his calm or centre on it, his thoughts racing ahead before his logic could catch up and pull them back. What if he was left on Hoth alone again? He couldn’t deal with the deep numbness again, knew he wasn’t stable enough. His master wouldn’t send him there….but it was a direct order from Master Yoda, so there wasn’t much to be done. The branch wobbled when he slumped back, his head knocking into the bark softly, and he shifted to resettle his weight. He wasn’t leaving this tree anytime soon. Maybe it was childish, but a small part of him thought that maybe, if they couldn’t find him, they’d pick a different padawan.

As people came and went in the gardens, Obi-Wan practiced his breathing exercises, letting himself get distracted for once. Maintaining his balance was keeping him still, preventing him fidgeting, but it left plenty of space for his mind to wander, so he very pointedly focused on his current surroundings rather than the ones he’d have to see soon. He found himself humming again, resting back as he lazily spun a sphere of water with the force, rotating it just to watch the particles wash over each other, his manipulation preventing it splashing down onto the ground below.

Although he had no real way of knowing how much time had passed since he was given the news and he fled like a child, he started feeling drowsy, releasing the water bubble back into the fountain with a satisfying splash sound. Feeling master pressing lightly at their bond, he pointedly strengthened his mental shields, forcing a retreat and giving him a little more time to sort through his thoughts. He would apologise later, probably receive a lecture on sharing burdens, but he didn’t want his master to know how badly he’d been unsettled by the news. Slowly blinking, he watched as the suns set over the gardens, and sighed in relief. It was rare that he’d spend the night out in the gardens, but his master had clearly decided to give him his space, and he couldn’t be more grateful, as he sank back into the living force around him, only the soft moonlight casting vague shadows around him. The last Jedi left the gardens, leaving him truly alone for the first time in a while. He smiled happily, weaving his fingers together on his chest and letting himself get carried into the force around him. He didn’t feel like he was in his body anymore, but he knew he was safe with the force, and let it take from him, wrapping him in warmth.

And that’s how he fell asleep, peaceful.

When he awoke, he was rumpled, and had clearly fallen at some point, because the force was pressing tight around him, holding him in place, but he felt more alive than he had in a long time. Climbing down carefully, he scanned the gardens, finding only a few of the masters of the council here at the stupidly early hour. Master Windu appeared to be meditating with Master Yoda and Masters Plo and Kit were relaxing at the fountain. He felt calm in the presence of so many experienced Masters of the force, and lazily went through a few katas, stretching out his stiff muscles. As good as it may feel mentally to sleep in the gardens, it didn’t do his body a whole world of good, and he almost laughed when his shoulder cracked. Maybe Hoth wouldn’t be bad this time. He wasn’t alone, his master would be there, wouldn’t let anything happen to him, and he knew he could trust in the force to protect him now. When he was young, he didn’t trust the force as he should have, and it had resulted in dulled senses and an easy attack. He was stronger now, everything would be okay.

At peace with his decision, he rolled his shoulders and headed back towards the temple, folding his arms into his robes and wrapping his fingers around the opposite wrists. He was distracted, and didn’t notice anything until he crashed headfirst into another padawan, sending them both sprawling. Embarrassed, he lay on the ground for a moment, hoping whoever it was would hurry up and leave. To his shock and delight, a warm hand clasped his and yanked him forcibly to his feet, letting him stare right into the eyes of Bant Eerin. He grinned widely, throwing his arms around the mon calamari in a rare display of affection.

“Hey bantha head, good to see you too.” She squeezes him tight for a fleeting second before letting him go, scanning him quickly for injuries before settling on a smile. He waved at her, and she laughed.

“Alright, I have to go, my master is waiting, but we should talk soon, properly.” She punched him in the arm gently before racing off in the opposite direction. He was still laughing when he arrived back at their quarters, but his good mood faltered. He really hoped his master wouldn’t be mad at him for vanishing…

His anxieties were quelled when he master opened the door and immediately pulled him into a hug. He was so surprised by the action, that for a moment he neither responded or pulled away, but then he was smiling in relief and let himself enjoy the contact for a moment. Only a moment, then he pushed him away slightly.

“Did you go to the tree, dear one?” His master steered him gently into their quarters, releasing him near the couch so he could get comfortable. The older man must have felt him in the force because there was already a steaming mug of tea on the table beside him, and he smiled privately.

“I apologise for fleeing like that, master, I felt a little overwhelmed.” It was the simplified truth, but his master didn’t force any more out of him.

“Will you be alright to take the mission? I can arrange to take another padawan if you would prefer?” They both knew Obi-Wan would sooner bury himself in snow than let his master take another padawan.

“I’m coming with you.” He knew all along that was his final decision, but it felt more terrifying saying it aloud than he’d thought.

“Thank you padawan, I appreciate this.” His master seemed to genuinely appreciate it, and he grinned into his mug, feeling secretly relieved that he hadn’t received an entire lecture about sleeping in trees. His holo buzzed and he checked it nervously, reading the message multiple times before he comprehended it. Master Yoda was incredibly wise, and the information was useful, but his backwards speech made it difficult at times to understand the advice he was being given.

“And what’s that?” He knew his master wouldn’t pry if he didn’t give him an answer, but he felt calm, comfortable, so he didn’t hesitate to hand him the holo, smiling when his Master chuckled under his breath.

“It appears Master Yoda may have spotted me sleeping in the tree.” They grinned at each other, and Obi-Wan decided it was worth facing Hoth to see that smile on his masters face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think?


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gon spends the journey to Hoth thinking deeply about just how lucky he was to find his padawan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some rare Qui-Gon POV for this chapter 
> 
> It won’t happen often, but it helps break things up, put another perspective

Although Qui-Gon was incredibly grateful to his padawan for his bravery, he was starting to feel guilty for asking him to come along. Over the following days towards their mission, his padawan had barely left their quarters, always on the move, pacing the main window space, bouncing his leg when he was forced to sit, pushing his food about his plate and eating less than a third of it. Qui-Gon knew he was asking a lot of the nervous boy, but they had to face the fear eventually, and Master Windu wouldn’t take ‘he didn’t want to’ as an acceptable reason for Qui-Gon taking the mission alone. It was merely surveillance, really, but sat in the co-pilots seat in their republican craft, the master had the bone deep feeling that things weren’t going to go to plan. They never did, especially when his padawan was involved. He let his eyes drift to the boy, watching as he fiddled with switches, his fingers dancing over the controls. They were in no danger, Obi-Wan was a highly capable pilot, but his fidgeting always made Qui-Gon nervous if he was holding anything.

There was one time, back when Obi-Wan was a junior padawan and Qui-Gon had been distant, the boys fidgeting had made him shatter a mug. After a period of stunned silence, the boy had dropped to his knees amongst the ceramic, frantically gathering pieces into his hands. Blood had dripped, but Qui-Gon had been trapped in place, watching in stunned silence as the silent boy gathered all the pieces in his arms and vanished to his sleeping quarters. When he’d next seen Obi-Wan, his hands were clumsily bandaged, and he was drinking from a mended cup, trembling with effort as he forced himself to be still. That was the first time Qui-Gon realised he’d been too distant.

After that, Qui-Gon had come to accept Obi-Wan’s little quirks, and found himself adopting a few of them after time. Qui-Gon had the pleasure of watching the boy grow out of his shell, become comfortable around him. In turn, he opened up to the padawan, and their bond settled into a familiarity born of trust and acceptance.

Watching him now, as he easily navigated them through a rocky field, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, he was so grateful he’d given the boy a second chance. Although he had never told Obi-Wan, the other masters had been ready to send him away, deeming him too unstable. Qui-Gon had been reluctant to take him on too, but simply hadn’t wanted the boy to be sent to the agricorps. The rocky months almost had Obi-Wan going back, but something in the force around him threatened murder if he left the boy behind.

As if sensing his thoughts, Obi-Wan turned to him, raising one of his eyebrows high and looking through him with piercing grey-blue eyes. He offered him a smile, but didn’t break the pleasant silence that blanketed between them. Obi-Wan relaxed in his seat just slightly, his fingers drumming a soft tune against the steering panel when there wasn’t anything engaging, a simple flight path through empty space. Qui-Gon settled back into his thoughts.

They had been through so much together over the years of Obi-Wan’s apprenticeship, good times and bad.

_“Master, what’s happening?” They had been captured, pirates that Qui-Gon had never seen before, and locked up in what seemed to be an electric cell. His padawan had been blindfolded, and Qui-Gon debated telling him what was really going on. The boy was smarter than that, and strong in the force, he would know if his master was lying to him._

_“We appear to have…stumbled upon the settlement of a gang of rather unpleasant space pirates.” He was surprised when his padawan started laughing, tipping his head back as his chest shook slightly._

_“Ah, so standard procedure then?” Startled, Qui-Gon had frowned at the boy, forgetting he couldn’t see him, wondering when his padawan had been captured before. Continuing to startle his master, the young boy had pulled himself to his feet without using his arms at all. He’d twisted, his shoulder making a nasty pop as he brought his hands in front of him, grimacing only slightly._

_“Forgive me, Master.” He mumbled, and to Qui-Gons utter wonderment, proceeded to pull a small pin from his padawan braid. The tightly woven strands only unravelled slightly, but Obi-Wan looked close to tears over it before shaking himself out of it, his fingers moving swiftly over the cuffs. Qui-Gon had to mentally muffle his pride when the cuffs buzzed, tumbling into Obi-Wan’s waiting hands, preventing any loud sounds. He’d unlocked Qui-Gon’s cuffs, and when they made it back to the temple, Qui-Gon had ensured his overly modest padawan got the credit and praise he deserved._

Qui-Gon had been lucky that day to escape with nothing more than a bruised elbow, and he vividly remembered cleaning the electric whip wound on the boys shoulder, forcing him to take a bacta patch despite his insistence that his master should have it for a simple bruise. That night, he’d woven a new bead into Obi-Wan’s braid, a symbol of his growing maturity. He chuckled fondly to himself at the memory, and his padawan looked over inquiringly. He shrugged, and despite his obvious curiosity, he dropped the subject, leaving his master to drift. The boys dry wit and invaluable sarcasm brought fun to even the worst missions, and although they hadn’t been particularly close to begin with, Qui-Gon had come to value the boys opinion over that of many of the Jedi masters.

_“Master, you cannot be serious?” The younger padawans incredulous tone had Qui-Gon physically restraining laughter, and he shucked his robes with what he knew was an incredibly frustrating grin on his face._

_“Oh but why ever not, padawan mine?” His belt followed his robes, but with far more care, placed carefully in the sand so it would be easily within reach of either of them at any moment._

_“You don’t get to complain about sandy robes later.” The boys tone was dryer than the sand itself, and Qui-Gon was too slow to muffle his laughter this time, genuinely delighted at the verbal sparring._

_“I’m pretty sure, as a Jedi master, I can do as I so please, little one.” He dropped his apprentice title, and watched as the little ginger relaxed, shoulders rolling back a little but his fingers never stilling, tapping his wrist beneath his robes. Other than a slight twitch of displeasure, Obi-Wan showed no real signs of discomfort at being so exposed, and shrugged his outer robes off, deeming it unfit to go any further. Qui-Gon let the boy adjust, and simply dived into the water, shockingly cold in the way he’d wanted all day. He sighed, getting a mouthful of saltwater as he relaxed a little too far, and he heard sharp, pleasant laughter ring through the air, openly joyful at the sight. Obi-Wan was always the best version of himself when they were like this, more friends than master and apprentice, and Qui-Gon had learned over the years that an Obi-Wan who didn’t feel pressured was one who performed well._

_“Di’kut” he heard the soft, fond mutter, and for a few moments his brain struggled with the word before realising it was in a language he didn’t recognise. He didn’t ask, but assumed he was being teased, so smiled widely at his padawan, who was running sand between his fingers with a childish delight, blue eyes twinkling in the sunlight as the beach surroundings gave him an almost halo of peace. His freckles seemed sharper than usual, and Qui-Gon noted with satisfaction the boy would have caught the sun by the time they returned to the temple. Served him right for his comment in the throne room earlier that day._

That day was a favourite memory of his, and by far his most treasured mission. The boy has been so open, so relaxed, that Qui-Gon had learned more about him than he ever thought he would. He didn’t like certain sounds and textures, although he didn’t know why. The cold startled him, sometimes scared him. His thoughts were loud, so it often took a long time to settle into meditation, but when he did, it was deep and long.

Looking over at Obi-Wan now, Qui-Gon felt nothing but pride. Even with the odds stacked against him and a room full of seasoned masters convinced he would fall to the dark, Obi-Wan had become one of the strongest padawans in the light side of the force for many years. He had outran his friends, outsparred his partners, dried up the archives and still had nothing but the need to learn more. He was skilled in all lightsaber forms, had a bone deep connection in the force that came from years of practice, mental shields stronger than durasteel, a way with words that was a delight to be around.

And still balanced all that with taking care of Qui-Gon.

He was in no means an invalid, but he often forgot the minor things when he was particularly busy. Things like eating, sleeping, washing, often fell far below anything involving the living force, and more often than not his padawan would silently join him, immersed silently in his studies beside him, letting Qui-Gon work uninterrupted and yet providing support.

But on occasion, even Obi-Wan’s extensive patience would run out, and he’d find himself ushered to a table set with a small meal and a well made cup of tea, forced to eat, and then shoved unceremoniously into his sleeping quarters until he got some real rest.

He laughed softly, earning himself an unimpressed glare. Spending a week or more on hoth with his padawan would be good bonding time if nothing else.

The snort his padawan echoed into the cockpit suggested he hadn’t shielded that thought very well. He found he didn’t mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those of you who take the time to comment: I love you and you absolutely brighten my day
> 
> To those of you who simply leave kudos: I love you too, thank you for reading my little self indulgence 💕


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All things considered, Obi-Wan doesn’t have a bad time when they land on hoth. Everything seems to be going okay.
> 
> Until it isn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to Obi-Wan POV now folks
> 
> We will get to canon eventually... but for now here’s another mission of my own creation

Landing on Hoth startled Obi-Wan awake, and he bashed his head on the control panel. Groaning, he slowly brought himself upright, rubbing his eyes to clear the after sleep bleariness and glancing out of the window, frowning at the all too familiar white surface, ice and snow thrown up into the air as they touched down.

“You should go and change, padawan. I can handle docking.” A warm voice filled the room, held respectively at a pitch just loud enough to be heard, but not enough to startle him. He nodded to his master, still half asleep, and stumbled down the hallway of the small ship. The tiny room that would have been sleeping quarters was entirely undisturbed, and he flushed in embarrassment at the realisation he’d fallen asleep in the pilots chair. He carefully tugged off his outer tunics and robes, laying them across the bed to prevent wrinkles in the fabric. Reluctantly, but knowing he’d regret being sensitive later, he pulled on the skin tight under layer, cringing slightly because of the shiny feeling against his bare skin. Next were his warm trousers, and his snow boots, and lastly his puffy jacket, made with multiple layers of insulated fabric. He grabbed his goggles as he left the room, feeling distinctly overdressed. He’d appreciate all the layers later, when his fingers felt numb and his nose was pink with frost, planetary representatives arguing left right and centre over who should get to do what.

Feeling a migraine coming on, Obi-Wan quickly dragged his attention to something else. Unfortunately, the nearest thing that would catch his interest for long enough was his master, and the man was nowhere in sight. Dismayed, he zipped up his coat, the snow crunching under his boots as he left the relative safety of their ship, being greeted by one of the senators he would be working with. He felt like vomiting when they shook hands, but the soft inner lining of his gloves soothed his burning skin when he pulled them back on, and he concentrated on that instead. Maybe if he was lucky he wouldn’t have to talk to them alone-

“Will Master Jinn be joining us soon, Padawan Kenobi?” Kriff… conversation it was then. He took an unsteady breath, and hoped his master arrived before he said anything too stupid.

“Yes, Senator. Most likely he is preparing himself for the wonderful weather before leaving the ship.” He pasted on a smile, realising belatedly that he’d just insulted Hoth to the face of one of its residents. Before his panic could build, the senator was smiling widely, a shrill laugh escaping.

“You are a funny one, Padawan Kenobi.” Unsure what to say to that, he just laughed nervously back, his feet shifting awkwardly in the snow as he looked to the ship for support. His master, seeming to choose that moment as the most dramatic to emerge, stepped out with a soft crunch of snow, ducking to avoid the low hanging ship wing and smiling warmly at the Senator. All of a sudden the planet wasn’t so cold, and Obi-Wan had to muffle a real smile at seeing his master all bundled up in snow gear like himself.

The last time he’d been here he’d been so cold and afraid, he hadn’t been able to appreciate snow. Maybe he hated the cold, and the wet, but the glittering white layer over the ground was as beautiful as it was daunting, even when new flakes fell and threatened to disturb the unbroken sheet.

“Padawan?” He hadn’t been listening, or even paying attention, because apparently he’d started walking already, following the nice crunchy noises under his feet. He flushed pink.

“My apologies, Master, Senator, I mean no disrespect by my distracted behaviour. Hoth is a simply beautiful planet.” The words tasted like ash in his mouth, and it felt wrong to bow to someone he didn’t know, but it was worth it to see the Senator bloom in a smile and know that negotiations would be easier now that they liked him.

“A truly wonderful boy, this padawan of yours.” He turned out the conversation again, not wanting to hear praise from a stranger, but a gentle press on their bond made him snap to attention again, feeling increasingly more embarrassed at losing track of himself so frequently. His memories bounced around threateningly at the forefront of his mind, but he glared pointedly at the snow, drawing himself to the present once more, following the two adults when they began a steady walk towards the small senate building. His frozen lightsaber hilt nudged at his ribs, but rather than be uncomfortable he was reassured by its presence, knowing at any moment he could free himself from any assailants. Not that he was in any danger now, this time, Hoth didn’t seem like the worst place to be.

Especially when they eventually got inside and he was hit with a blast of warm air, instantly making his cheeks feel hot. He smiled. His issue had never been with the planet, only with his own head. The Senator directed them to a large hall, and Obi-Wan once again had his breath snatched from him. The ceiling was painted like the stars, most likely to hide the bleary grey sky, and even as he was pushed gently into a seat he watched it in deep fascination, unable to pull his eyes away long enough to even listen to the conversation around him. He felt light, and was one step short of closing his eyes, so he clenched his fist, the fluffy glove drawing him back to the room and his surroundings, letting him tune in.

“I will be leaving my padawan here with you Senator while I go and examine the claimed area of unsettlement, I will be back by nightfall most likely.”

He wished he’d never tuned back in to hear that, and blinked at his master in betrayal as the man looked pointedly away, feeling like his throat was closing in on itself and his heart was beating too quickly. It was a good thing he was seated, because his vision swam a moment before settling.

“Oh of course, it will be wonderful to get to know him a little better, he is such a dear.” He shuddered. If he was lucky, he could find some place to settle in and hide for awhile, maybe attempt some meditation if he could calm himself enough. Secure in his plan, he smiled widely at the Senator.

“I am sure it will be a delight, Senator.” A blatant lie, but that was alright. Even Jedi were a little flexible at times. But he still looked to his master to make sure he wasn’t in trouble.

“ _Do not fret young one, I will return before you are even aware of my absence. You have a way with words, and I think some time with the Senator could…change things in our favour.”_ He’d never been more grateful for their training bond than in that moment, and he nodded, not catching himself quickly enough. Luckily, the Senator seemed too fascinated with his braid to notice anything amiss.

“ _Of course, Master. Do not get yourself in trouble, I don’t fancy searching the snow for your body.”_ Although he was joking, they both knew the words stemmed from real fear, and his master offered him a warm smile. The force bond ached with soothing energy, and he relaxed into it, nodding.

“I will see you later then, my master.” He said aloud, his own voice sounded strange. It was the closest thing to a goodbye they would allow each other, and the man smiled before turning away, pulling his goggles over his eyes.

The next thing Obi-Wan saw was darkness, and he felt his body hit the cold floor. Then there was nothing more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I love you all so much, thank you for taking the time to read this 💕


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things aren’t looking too pretty for obi-wan, but he clings to hope non the less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little trigger warning for torture in this chapter. Nothing big, but it’s there.
> 
> Apparently I like making him suffer.

When he woke, it was to numb fingers and an aching side, but he didn’t let any noise cross his lips, unsure of his surroundings. It was dimly lit, probably as dark as they could make it while reflective snow covered the entire planets surface. Discovering that his arms were suspended above his head was unpleasant but unsurprising, and he shifted as best he could, blinking in the hopes his eyes would adjust more quickly. It didn’t entirely work, but that was the least of his worries at that moment.

He couldn’t feel the force. Worse than that, he couldn’t feel his training bond with his master anymore. It was like it was simply… gone, muffled at best perhaps. Struggling not to panic, he took long, shaking breaths, attempting to regulate himself before he lost control again. Blasted ice planet.

“Good morning, Padawan Kenobi, I trust that you slept well.” He couldn’t see, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t tell exactly who was in the room with him.

“A pleasant morning to you too, Senator, I trust it finds you well.” Good one, Kenobi, just annoy your captor until they snap. Absolutely genius.

“Better than I hope you are feeling.” The grin they sported was all sharp teeth, and Obi-Wan realised belatedly that this Senator wasn’t actually entirely human. Their fingernails sharpened out into long claws, and he shuddered, knowing full well what was going to happen now. He wanted badly to sink back into the force, lose himself to a light meditation, but with no luck.

The first claw dug into his shoulder, and he pointedly closed his mouth, unwilling to give them any sort of reaction. It was more difficult to prevent his flinch, but by locking up his muscles he managed it, breathing around the sharp intrusion.

“Now, youngling, that will be quite enough of that behaviour.” What felt like a dull shock burned through his wrists, and this time he had to bite his lip to maintain his quiet. Everything felt wrong, and when he focused, he realised the flesh under the cuffs was beginning to burn, making his skin feel like it was peeling away. He wasn’t sure if it was cold burns from the metal cuffs, or shock burns from the electricity, but either way it hurt worse than most things he’d felt, and he couldn’t help a soft sound. He hoped his master was alright, wherever he had been sent on this desolate planet. Maybe he was having a good time, having found the native inhabitants of this planet and most likely wooing them over with his love for beings of the living force. His master cared so deeply when he allowed himself, and Obi-Wan smiled at the thought. This time, when the shocks ran up his arms, destroying any remaining feeling in them, he didn’t even notice. Maybe when his master returned he would have stories to tell.

“I suggest cooperation, padawan, or I will not be so kind.” Oh wonderful, this was the Senator In a good mood. He might have rolled his eyes, he wasn’t sure, but judging by the long claws that dug into his cheek, he must have done it involuntarily.

“You, my dearest child, have secrets I would like to know. You have been trained by the wise Master Jinn, I am sure you know much more than you appear to.” He held back a scoff. He was a senior padawan, did they really just expect him to cave in and spill all the Jedi secrets because of a few electrocutions? He did huff out a disbelieving breath then, too slow to prevent it, but deciding it was worth it despite the claws dangerously near his eyes. If information was what they wanted, it wasn’t information they were going to get. Unable to look his captor in the eye without losing his fragile concentration, he called on his force reserves. They were depleted heavily, clearly affected by whatever force-muting cuffs this senator had acquired, but the important part was he could access them. Careful not to heal himself, he instead focused on building his mental shields. He clamped the most tightly on his core memories, like his name, age, who he was, the most sensitive of the Jedi knowledge he had been allowed. Once the tightest shield was done, he registered a dull burning lancing up his side. He hissed, but otherwise ignored the pain for now, carefully wrapping the rest of his memories in an extra layer of shielding. He emerged from his mind exhausted and panting, but successful, so he didn’t muffle his quiet yelp of agony when one long claw dug into his cheek, dragging down across his lips and drawing blood. Which was excellent. He could have done without the coppery taste.

He spat it out in what he hoped was the senators direction. To his delight, he heard cursing, then stumbling, and the sound of the Senator tripping over air as they wiped blood out of their eyes. Good, that made him feel a little better about his burning face. He really hoped those claws weren’t coated in anything. He coughed a little, his throat dry. It seemed the Senator had decided to try again another time, because the burning against his side finally stopped, giving him a chance of cataloguing his injuries.

Half way through, when he’d made note of his bloody shoulder, his aching ribs and his burning side, the Senator returned, and his heart might have stopped. They held nothing more than a pair of scissors, clamped in long claws. He did struggle then, thrashing against his cuffs despite his promise to himself he would save his energy.

“Ah good, so you do know what this means. I have lost my patience with you child, you will tell me, now.” Cool metal pressed against his neck, right beside his braid, and his breathing hitched. Maybe he could…

“Master Yoda is hundreds of years old. Master Windu likes his toast light in the morning, Master Qui-Gon has two sugars in his tea-“ he was blabbering, and the Senator would figure it out soon enough, but for now they seemed to believe he’d done well, because the scissors moved away from his braid. He let out a tense breath.

“Tomorrow, youngling, you will give me some real information. But for now, I’ll let you enjoy some private time.” The smile was all sharp fangs again, and he shuddered nervously. Sure enough, the electricity started up again, and he had to focus on his breathing to stay calm. The Senator left him there, in the dark, with the numbing electricity, and at some point he must have passed out, because he awoke to water dumped over his head. An undignified screech left him at the freezing water, and he knew then that his momentary calm was lost. He whimpered, stressed, the cold surrounding him, seeming into his very bones. He wished for his master, pleaded softly to the force, knowing the Senator could hear every word. Feeling himself slipping away, he drew on the last of his reserves and sent a pleading cry out to his master. Maybe he heard it, maybe he didn’t, it was too late for him to know, he’d already slipped away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think of where this storyline has ran off to?


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gon struggles to find his legendary Jedi calm when he realises he can no longer sense his padawan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gon pov again for this chapter 
> 
> It might be a lil messy, I’m super tired, but the next chapter is 👀

Qui-Gon Jinn, when asked at a later date, would vehemently deny his utter panic at the weak whisper in his head. He had been wonderfully distracted by the sweet little snow bunnies, and was ashamed to admit even to himself that he hadn’t noticed the lack of brightness in the force where Obi-Wan usually settled in his mind in the slightest.

The boy had a signature not too dissimilar to a candle flame. Always bright, flickering and bouncing with energy, never in one place for too long. But he felt nothing when he searched for him now, and he had hurried back to his speeder, his goggles fogging with his breath. Obi-Wan had been so trembling, dazed, his voice a mere ghost of a sound in his mind.

More worrying were his words.

 _Help master, please, it hurts._ Obi-Wan was not a dramatic child, not in the slightest, and often did everything in his power to downplay an injury, usually waiting to get a check up for anything until someone forced him. There were many fond and worrying memories based around fights about the men bay. He would have chuckled, but his heart clamped when he felt nothing more than numbness from the other end of the bond. No pain, no happiness, simply nothing. Only his gut told him that his padawan was still alive, the force around him shaking with discomfort. He swung his leg over the speeder, already in motion before he’d even settled fully. Snow kicked up around him, and he gradually picked up speed, clenching his shaking hands so he wouldn’t risk steering off course in his distraction.

He tried calling out to his padawan in the force. Darkness enveloped him, and he struggled to open his eyes against the echo of electrocution in his side. Something must have gone wrong, because there shouldn’t even be the possibility of Obi-Wan being in such pain. The boy would have been unconscious, which would explain the darkness, and he tried to strain the speeder to go faster. It had been hours since he left, hours for whoever it was to have their way with Obi-Wan. He trusted in his padawan, knew he would never release the Jedi secrets he had been granted at an early age. Most Jedi didn’t earn the rights to the knowledge he had until knighthood, but his young padawan was an eager learner, and had rapidly burned through all the texts unlocked for the young in their ranks, and then through anything the librarian would give him. After that he’d burned through the texts Windu gave him, the ones Plo Koon gave him, even the ones he gave him personally. The boy was far too intelligent, and Yoda had finally granted him a holo key. Nobody had see the young one for a solid week after that.

He took a sharp left turn, spraying snow over his jacket as he raced on, the increased wind blowing back his hood, leaving his hair to be drenched by snow, but he couldn’t care less at that moment. Something should have been off about the saccharin sweet nature of the Senator, their wide smiles and loud giggling. He’d hoped, by leaving his padawan with them, that his calm nature would wash off on them, and they could negotiate better terms. As it turned out, no negotiation was needed, because there was no uprising, only an elaborate ruse to capture a Jedi. For what reasons, he was yet to discover, but as he pushed away a mountain of snow with the force, clearing his path so he didn’t have to slow, he truly began to wonder what greater forces were working against them. He wouldn’t return until night, it was a long journey, but he hoped he wouldn’t be too late. His padawan hated the dark, and he assumed the Senator wasn’t exactly trying to make him feel comfortable. He hoped the boy had at least been given food. As far as he knew, the boy hadn’t eaten the day before either, so was probably distinctively unwell by this point.

He took a deep breath, pushing his anxiousness away into the force. Running into the icy senate building like his own snowstorm would only push his padawan away, and he needed to help him.

Searching further in the force, he hit a physical barrier, and flinched away. Was that.. he thought carefully, his hands shaking. Although it was muted, drowned out by some dark presence, he could feel Obi-Wan’s force signature in the durasteel mental shields, clearly guarding the secrets from someone, most likely the Senator. Forced to retreat before the darkness invaded his mind, he shuddered, focusing on taking the next three turns. Proudness was dulled by worry for the boy, and he pointedly didn’t think about why his shields would need to be so tight.

He had to calm enough not to harm the Senator. A few deep breaths soothed him slightly. His lightsaber would stay on his belt. They needed answers, not bodies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh 👉🏼👈🏼 Comments give me life force


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan is losing his fight with the senator, until something unexpected happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for blood and torture again, but not too much

Breathing was becoming alarmingly complicated the longer the electricity coursed through him. Having long since lost track of any concept of time, Obi-Wan searched tentatively for the ground with his feet. No such luck, he found only air, but that didn’t stop his feverish mind attempting to find solid contact, yanking at his cuffs unsuccessfully as he tried to writhe away from the burning pressure in his chest. He gasped, coughing, and felt warm wetness on his chin. It made his over sensitised skin crawl, but he had no means of wiping it away, so elected to ignore it with all of his power. Which wasn’t a lot really.

Whoever the Senator was, they knew just how to get into his mind, because they’d left him alone, blindfolded and strung up, for what could have been days for all of his knowledge. The electricity was apparently a bonus. Not one he wanted, but one he’d been given the privilege of getting to know intimately. The way it would burn each time he attempted to move away, the sharp, freezing feeling in his feet as the blood rushed away from his limbs, feeling thick and clogged when it stuck in his throat. He coughed again, attempting to clear the discomfort, with very little success.

“Enjoying yourself dear?” The sickly sweet voice made him feel even more unwell, and didn’t grace them with a response, which seemed to anger them greatly, because soon enough there were claws by his neck, holding tightly to his braid.

“You will tell me, now, or the first bead goes.” His green bead, that his master had given him most recently, after his successful spar against him, almost completing his padawan braid. He took a shaky breath and choked on his blood, groaning.

“Got nothing for you… what want?” It certainly wasn’t his most eloquent work, and he felt the claws yank threateningly.

“You know what I want, child.” Their voice had become a growl, and he knew he was running out of loopholes.

“I already told you, Master Windu doesn’t like children, Master Yoda has a weakness for the younglings at the temple, Master Koon has adopted at least half of the padawans, even the ones who have been knighted-“ he was panting for breath, the air feeling thick and sticky in his throat.

“Enough! You’re talking nonsense!” Ah, so they’d finally realised. Wonderful. His chest heaved as the electric volts increased, and he felt his limbs begin to lock up, spasming against the pain lancing through him, not giving him a break. He couldn’t keep silent, and a pained yell left his lips, bringing with it more blood. Feeling a little faint, he slipped his eyes closed beneath the blindfold, trying to drift into unconsciousness.

A sharp slap rung out into the room, and he yelped, flinching more away from the contact than the pain. The movement jolted his shoulder, which as a result jarred his leg, making him kick out. He felt it hit something solid, and knew then that he was truly screwed. The electricity coursing through his body must have found its mark, because the Senator let out a deafening roar, claws scraping on the walls. It was his only chance, and he took it, locking both legs around their waist and refusing to let go, no matter how hard they dug their claws in. Something clattered to the floor, followed by a roar and a thump, and then there was silence, his only company the thudding in his ears. His body, Jedi healing aside, had finally hit its limits, and he was dragged under by the electricity. It was too late now, and he sent a weak goodbye to his master.

The last thing he felt was panic that wasn’t his own. The last thing he heard was the familiar buzz of a lightsaber.

Then there was nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder who was panicking 👀


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan, blind and terrified, finally reunited with his master in the cold cell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This is pretty much the end of the hoth mission, there’ll be a lot of comfort and recovery over the next few chapters

“Padawan? Can you hear me?” The voice was distant, and he was cold, so very cold, his limbs locked and fingers feeling fuzzy. He tried to raise his head, but found he lacked the energy, other than a weak yet rather painful spasm. It seemed to cause a chain reaction, because his fingers were twitching beyond his control, and he felt his chest shudder with the next breath in.

“It’s alright Obi-Wan, just lay still, the Jedi are on their way.” The words sounded strange for a moment before he focused enough to translate them, and they were still confusing. He was still in the darkness, so how could the Jedi hope to find him? His masters voice must be a mind trick of some sort, and he whined softly, his throat still feeling clogged.

An unmistakably large hand settled in his hair and he whimpered, torn. His deprived mind rejected all contact, but his frozen skin pressed desperately into its warmth, pleading. Strong arms wrapped around him as his first tears fell, and held him close even as his body trembled with leftover shocks, occasionally making him lock or go limp, each time making him dizzy and sick. He clung to his master like a lifeline, terrified of being left behind again. Soft humming echoed from somewhere above him and his sobs hitched into quieter, strained breaths as he listened to the familiar loop. Everything didn’t feel so bad, then, as he listened to his master hum, felt as the taller man rocked him lightly like he would a youngling. He didn’t care about propriety in that moment, he simply latched on, working on nothing but the instinctual need for comfort.

“Hush now, dear heart, everything will be alright once we return home, I promise.” Promises were not things made lightly, and Obi-Wan, despite everything, managed a wet laugh in his masters shoulder. His masters responding chuckle was deep, and resonated in his chest, and Obi-Wan let himself relax somewhat, knowing he was safe. Until he froze.

“Master…. The Senator?”he desperately hoped he hadn’t killed them, but knew they would have to be extremely lucky to survive the amount of electricity heading towards them.

“Unconscious, cuffed, but alive. You did some excellent work little one.” He felt alarmingly grateful his master hadn’t used his title then, his mind stuck on the way the word sounded on the senators lips. He shuddered at the memory, and felt his masters hand brush his short hair gently. He couldn’t see, but knew his vision would return, so refused to let himself panic, even when the force trembled in warning and somebody new entered the cell. Before he could control himself he’d whimpered, and was attempting to curl into his master, only for his limbs to spasm, making him grab fistfuls of his masters robes. The air whooshed around him, and he heard a soft clink as the older man returned both of their lightsabers to his belt, turning slowly to meet the other presence.

“Jinn, what the Sith hells happened?” Master Windu’s rich tone filled his ears and he relaxed a little, knowing the experienced master would approach the strange situation calmly. He sniffled quietly, and flushed in embarrassment when he noticed.

“Our mission got a little…well, messy. Our wonderful Senator friend has been working for another, and tortured my padawan for information.” He flinched away from the word, triggering another spasm and he had to bite back a whimper.

“Padawan Kenobi, did you tell the senator anything at all? Any information we will need to change?” He twitched at his title, feeling angry suddenly. He did not just suffer for Sith knows how long to be accused of spilling secrets.

“All they know is ah-“ he paused to take a shaky breath “is how you like your toast, Master Windu.” Both jedi masters let out surprised snorts of laughter, and he anxiously attempted to reach into the force, find out if they were mocking him. Whatever force cuffs those were, had clearly been made well, because he could still only barely sense the force around him, shaking.

“Then a thank you is in order, Padawan. You have done the Jedi a great honour by protecting our secrets, and I am sure the council will wish to tell you as much when you are healed. Come, there is a transport outside, I will take the Senator.” It must have been clear even to Master Windu that he wouldn’t be walking, because there was no fight as his master carried him carefully out of the cell.

He immediately begun shivering, having long since lost his coat, and for a moment it made him inexplicably upset, near tears. His master noticed immediately, and stilled.

“Obi-Wan?” The question was soft, tentative, pressing but not forcing, and he really did burst into tears then.

“I l-lost my coat.” He hiccuped, feeling incredibly stupid for getting upset over something so easily replaced, but his heart clenched at the thought, sending another spasm through his arms.

“Hush, dear one, it’s alright. I’ll get you to the transport and then return for your coat, it’s not a problem.” He sniffled, trying to control his out of whack emotions with very little success. He would have to meditate on this for a long time when they did return. As though protesting the thought, his chest clenched, and he choked on a breath, cursing the aftershocks of being electrocuted for so long. His master hushed him quietly, and he did his best to calm down, push away his emotions. It was difficult to ignore them, without the force to help him, and he felt as though he were missing a limb each time he reached out and found nothing. To his relief and embarrassment, his master noticed, and sent a calm wave of his own force energy to wash over Obi-Wan. He went practically limp with it, any contact with the force feeling incredible after being cut off for so long.

Finally, he felt warm air on his skin, and knew his cheeks had probably flushed as he curled into his masters chest further, the change in lighting hurting his temporarily blinded eyes. Everything was a sharp, sterile white, and he figured he was being taken to the ships med bay. Usually he would protest loudly, but he didn’t have the energy, and a fresh spasm made him hiss, as though his body was trying to prove a point. He was set down on what must have been a bed, and the silky sheets triggered another spasm, making him groan softly in annoyance. He didn’t put up a fight, just lay quiet, panicking silently when his master left.

Alone. Alone. Alone. His breathing was picking up and he knew it, but couldn’t do anything about it. Alone. His arm twitched violently, and he drew it closer to his chest to try and muffle the action. Alone. He tried to search in the force, but was cut off by his own shields, keeping him trapped in his mind. Alone. He wouldn’t dare release the shields. Somewhere to his right he heard beeping, followed by frantic voices, but all of that paled in comparison to feeling his master return, bright and worried in the force. Smiling weakly, he finally allowed himself to rest, curled up small to limit his spasms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think 👉🏼👈🏼


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gon is worried about his padawan, but is there for him every step of the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Qui-Gon pov for this chapter!
> 
> Tw for medical surroundings

Qui-Gon worried for his padawan. The boy, even in his light doze, was trembling with aftershocks that still hadn’t left him, leaving him pale and sickly in the bed. Their ship had taken off from hoth a short while ago, but the young Jedi showed no signs of knowing, lost in his own heavily shielded mind.

It hurt him, to be so cut off from their training bond, and he stroked gently through short, buzzed hair to calm himself with physical closeness where he was cut off from their mental contact. His padawan, in an unusual display of attachment, curled up into the touch, his spasms becoming soft shaking as his limbs relaxed. He struggled not to smile at the calm look on his padawans face, the unusual sight of unfurrowed brows, loosened shoulders. The medics worked silently around him, efficiently bundling his padawan up in blankets and hooking him up to a basic heart monitor, the steady beeping sounds both unnerving and settling Qui-Gon in a strange combination of emotions.

After a while of light meditation, the beeping of the monitor picked up, and one panicked padawan stirred, kicking weakly at blankets and only succeeding in triggering a particularly painful spasm. Careful not to hurt him, Qui-Gon pressed down on his shoulders, pinning him to the bed until the jerking stopped, leaving Obi-Wan panting quietly.

“Thank you, Master.” His voice was a whisper, and he looked exhausted when he blinked his eyes open, staring blindly at the wall.

“Of course, Obi-Wan, how are you feeling?” Although he flinched at first, his padawan then settled at the sound of his voice, his eyes drifting closer to his position. He couldn’t smother a smile at the slight tilt of his head.

“Cold, really cold.” It was true that Obi-Wan’s lips were a little blue, and his skin appeared pale, but there was also a flush high on his cheeks, highlighting his freckles and nose.

There was a split second decision to be made, and he didn’t hesitate. The healers would most likely be angry with him for it, but he gently shrugged the soft winter coat onto Obi-Wan’s shoulders. Although he often complained to start with about overdressing, the coat seemed to be important to Obi-Wan, and his entire body relaxed when he realised what the additional weight was, whispering out a stunned “thank you” before slumping back into the pillow propped against the headrest. He blinked, and had clearly decided it was better to have his eyes closed, because he settled more comfortably, letting out a soft huff.

“The shields are practical, but entirely uncomfortable.” Although the boy chuckled at his own joke, Qui-Gon knew they were a safety net, and one his padawan likely wouldn’t release for a while. Qui-Gon would just have to set aside his own feelings for the time being.

“I could attempt to send you into a meditation, If you’d like to try and rekindle your connection with the force?” He had no clue how to even begin doing that, but he would try, because the boys eyes lit up, a paler blue than usual, but nothing worrying. He leaned back in his chair, reaching out into the force, clinging carefully to his dull signature, gently threading it through with his own force calming. His padawan went limp, and he caught him, lowering him into the pillows as he drifted into a deep force meditation. Hopefully when he returned to them, he’d be more connected to the force and wouldn’t feel so lost. He smiled privately, running his fingers over the padawan braid, noting the frayed, clawed at ends with a sigh. If there was one thing the young one couldn’t stand, it was people being anywhere near it.

He sighed and pulled away, scrubbing his face tiredly. Some sleep and a cup of tea was in order, and he stood slowly on aching knees, taking one last look at his sleeping padawan before leaving, reluctant, but knowing he’d help nobody by just sitting there.

The force nudged him back into the room less than an hour later, and although he was feeling weary by now, he didn’t hesitate to return to his padawans side. Although he was clearly attempting to quiet his cries, the boy was curled tightly into himself, a hand grasping at his chest where the heart monitor connected with his skin.

“Shh, shh, Obi-Wan, it’s alright.” He set his tea on the bedside table before sitting carefully on the bed, tucking the coat more tightly around his shoulders.

“Hurts.” He whispered back, scratching lightly at his chest. Qui-Gon, although he was worried, was just relieved he was still talking to him. It wasn’t uncommon for Obi-Wan to go nonverbal when he was uncomfortable or scared, and he knew both would be dominant emotions at the moment. He just wished he could sense him in the force. 

“I know dear one, I know, just take a deep breath.” He knew it was entirely unhelpful advice when the poor child was having chest spasms every few minutes, but Obi-Wan still listened, taking a deep, shaking breath and releasing it in a puff. Although he’d been dozing on and off for hours, Obi-Wan looked no less exhausted than he had when he was last in the room, and he suspected the boy may have been feigning sleep at least once.

“Better?” He physically stopped himself from reaching out for more contact, knowing he should at least let him regain his bearings first.

“Somewhat.” In a motion probably more against the rules than anything he’d ever done, Obi-Wan slung himself into an upright position, swinging his legs over the edge with a clear intention on his face.

“Oh no you don’t-“ he pressed a hand to one thin shoulder, not needing to apply any pressure as his padawan relaxed instantly. The heart monitor beeped and flashed red for a moment, finally noticing the movement, and Obi-Wan gave it a displeased grunt, waving his hand at it and effectively cutting off the sound. There was silence for a moment, then he gave a surprised laugh, pale eyes wide with delight as he turned towards where Qui-Gon was sat.

He smiled softly at his padawan despite knowing he wouldn’t be seen, and knew then that slowly, things would become alright again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not to beg but comments give me life 👉🏼👈🏼


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gon is trying his best to adjust to their new normal.
> 
> Obi-Wan runs out of patience with staying still

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Qui-Gon pov this chapter! And cuddles eventually

The first few days of recovery once they returned to Coruscant were by far the worst for both of them. Obi-Wan spent most of his time asleep or meditating, his spasms leaving him weak and gasping for breath some times, and only mildly irritated others. A new heart monitor had been set up, alongside some stern words from Master Che about messing with medical equipment, which Obi-Wan responded to with a nod, and nothing more.

After those days, with Qui-Gon running on caffeine and the force alone, things began to settle somewhat.

Even with Obi-Wan being allowed to return to their quarters under strict bed rest, the boy was yet to speak a word to his master, having fallen silent once on the planet. Feeling guilty that his padawan would be trapped in his bed all day, eventually Qui-Gon had caved in and let him have a holo, earning him a huge grin, which was rarely out of his hands after that. He was a picky eater, but was steadily recovering his appetite, so Master Che told him not to push if at least half of the plate was eaten. Although he remained bundled up in a tight blanket fort, his body temperature had started stabilising after the fourth day of bed rest, stopping his shivering. However his spasms simply wouldn’t leave for longer than an hour at best, leaving the poor boy looking as rested as if he never bothered sleeping in the first place. The human body wasn’t designed for that much electricity, and the medics all assured Qui-Gon, in words that only made him more worried, that the boy was lucky to be alive, and as such would be lucky enough to heal.

He rubbed his eyes, lost in thought, and his padawan tilted his head in a silent question. He shook his head in answer, and the boy wordlessly returned to his work.

Another thing they had started doing. With Obi-Wan’s shields still durasteel strong, and his mind too unstable for contact, Qui-Gon had been almost entirely cut off from his padawan. As much as he may have preached a lack of attachments, he was painfully attached to the fiery little ginger padawan who had strolled into his life and flipped it on its head, and craved the old bantering they once had.

And although He had tried his best not to let on that he was desperate for his padawan to return to him, the boy inevitably noticed, and Qui-Gon found a note passed to him by shaking fingers that quickly retreated back to a blanketed lap. The masters heart had filled when the scribble note said “stay here, move your bed, it’s big enough.” And he’d been sleeping there since. It made it easier to fall asleep at night, listening to steady breathing only disturbed by occasional hitches, and easier to wake up in the mornings to the sight of his padawan pouring over some texts on his holo, refusing to even risk falling behind. They worked in mostly silence throughout the day, but Qui-Gon had come to understand the more subtle things his padawan did now that they didn’t talk as often. Obi-Wan used his hands and head to convey what he meant, making it clearer what he wanted without needing words.

A twitch of his hand as he gestured for something he needed shyly, the involuntary motion indicating awkwardness or discomfort. Head tilts, for confusion or silent questions. Shoulder rolls when he was weary or annoyed. A little scratch at his chin when he was truly lost in his thoughts.

He came to realise just how much his padawan fidgeted. The boy was always moving in some way, tapping his fingers against a knee, or his wrist, or even against one another. His legs were too weak for bouncing or foot tapping, but they also weren’t quite still either.

The calmest motion seemed to be rubbing his finger in little circles against his middle finger, and Qui-Gon often found himself watching, strangely soothed by the motions himself.

A soft thud echoed in the room and dragged Qui-Gon forcibly back into the room, where he found himself staring at a blank wall, unsure how long he’d been doing so. His padawan had moved, throwing his holopad down, turned towards him, and he seemed to be trying to figure something out, because his brows were furrowed and his nose had scrunched, his eyes focused on his masters bed. Qui-Gon waited him out, knowing that if it was necessary for him to know, Obi-Wan would tell him in his own way, and if not it wasn’t his business.

He was caught completely off guard when his padawan stood, taking his blankets with him, and pointedly plonked down directly beside his master, triggering an arm spasm that he didn’t even seem to notice. Without dropping the blankets, or even disturbing Qui-Gon’s work, he settled down again, head resting low on his masters chest as his breaths deepened again, having gone shallow with his sudden movements. In his shock, Qui-Gon didn’t even consider sending him the short distance back to his bed. Instead, he wrapped his spare arm loosely around thin shoulders, keeping his grip feather light and not letting any weight fall.

It seemed that wasn’t what was wanted here, because Obi-Wan quite literally yanked on his arm with surprising strength, draping it heavily across his back and shoulders, only settling down again once Qui-Gon practically pinned him to his side. All the jostling triggered more spasms, and Obi-Wan let out a soft hiss but no more, relaxed in his little blanket burrito.

And then Qui-Gon understood. No skin contact, his body too overwhelmed, but contact through other things was wanted.

He didn’t let go of his padawan until the night cycle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh, does anyone want me to go back to Obi-Wan’s pov?


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan spends the quiet morning thinking, and has a rather nice cup of tea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to Obi-Wan! He’s having a good morning, let him be :)

Obi-Wan woke the next morning feeling more rested than he had in over a week, and quickly decided that he was done with bed rest. He sat up slowly, careful not to rush all the blood to his head as he swung his legs over the side and set them on the floor, triggering a small spasm. Staying completely silent, he wrapped his blankets more tightly around himself and ghosted into the small kitchen area, making sure to close the doors softly behind him to muffle the sounds of him pottering about. His master, much as Obi-Wan would if their roles reversed, had refused to leave his side for longer than a few hours for days, and moving him in to his sleeping quarters felt instinctively like the best plan, slight embarrassment at his obvious attachment aside. It had worked out for both of them, it seemed, because while Qui-Gon was finally catching up on some rest, Obi-Wan felt strong enough and brewed himself a nice cup of tea, catching the kettle switch with the force before it could whistle and trigger any reactions from him or his on edge master.

His peaceful morning was entirely undisturbed apart from a few spasms and a momentary panic when his blanket fell from his shoulders, and he’d watched the sun rise on Coruscant with a smile on his face, feeling somewhat more optimistic about the day ahead than he had been for the ones behind him. Even the force seemed to be grateful for his return, because his fingertips were tingling, the air around him feeling thick with happy energies. A raspy chuckle escaped his lips, and he tucked his knees more closely to his chest, cradling his mostly empty mug in the gap between his legs and arms. His shoulders shook with a repressed spasm and he frowned thoughtfully, distracted from the glistening lights of the sun hitting glass windows.

Human beings weren’t supposed to be held in any electrical state for long periods of time, and he knew that, but he also knew that no human being should have survived the sheer voltage that had been shocked into him during his time with the Senator, so he had no right to be annoyed at the constant aftershocks. It didn’t make them any less impractical even if he willed them away, and he pointedly turned his attention back to the bright skyline that filled their quarters with an ethereal glow. Coruscant was a city, and during the busy hours of the day most of the vibrant skyline was hidden by hover cars and smoke. But if you woke early enough, you could see the strange beauty of the planet as it awoke, the shining lights cast on its citizens.

He laughed softly at his over dramatic brain, the elaborate words that’d been chosen, and sipped slowly at the remaining liquid in his mug, hugging it to his chest to feel the residual warmth of the mug after he was done. Despite knowing his temperature was fine, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being chilled to the bone, and as a result wouldn’t even consider removing his blankets. Thinking about it made him sigh and snuggle into them, the familiar fabrics soothing his raw feeling skin. The hug had been so soothing, and he thought on it carefully. Because he couldn’t meditate his feelings away anymore, he had to sit and think about them before forcibly pushing them to the back of his mind for a later meditation date, and that resulted in new things coming to light.

Nothing felt better than a hug from his master. Strong arms around him, holding him tightly, affectionately tracing circles on his back through the layers of fabric blocking any real contact. The steady thudding of his heartbeat in his ear, the soft scratching sound that was made when his master brushed his beard with his hand while deep in thought. He had felt so much better when he returned to his own bed that night, and had almost slept the whole night through with no nightmares.

_Red. Amber eyes glaring at him. Screams. His own screams. Electricity. Ice. Broken ice, trapped, drowning, stuck._

He physically shook his head to dispel the uncomfortable thoughts, rolling his shoulders to alleviate some of the new nervous energy that had been added to his system. Whoever that Senator was, seemed to know just how to get inside his head, twist his words and push his buttons. He’d come terrifyingly close to caving in when they started throwing water over him and on him, leaving it to freeze against his skin, making him shiver even as he bit his tongue and refused, pushing the thoughts away from the forefront of his mind to shelter them better.

Scrubbing at his eyes, he realised he’d been sat in one spot for almost an hour. Time seemed to pass strangely some times, and he put his mug in the sink before drawing his blankets close and huddling into a loose lotus position, his posture all wrong but the familiarity of the action quieting his mind. He let himself fall back in the force, hitting against his own thick shields when he tried to sink into his mind, and deciding to focus on his emotions instead. He picked away at the many layers, pulling and tugging them apart, pushing away what he could with his limited force access and storing the other thoughts in the corner of his mind. Emerging tired but successful, he padded over to the fridge, opening it to find something. He frowned, and opened the freezer instead. Before he’d even registered his own thought process, he’d grabbed the tub of ice cream and a large spoon, kicking the door closed behind him and pausing to let the spasms run their course before settling on the couch again.

When he realised, he decided to give himself a day off caring for propriety. A mouth full of ice cream and a room lit in morning sunlight may be his new favourite way to start a day, and he found himself grinning contently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you guys think?


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan has a horrible shock, but his master helps him work through it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School has been absolutely kicking my ass, I’m so sorry for the slow update. This most likely doesn’t make much sense, but I promise the next few chapters will be better edited

The morning couldn’t run smoothly forever. Obi-Wan had only just been lulled into calmness when he lost the feeling in his arms. He hadn’t noticed, for a few moments, because he hadn’t been moving much anyway, but when the mostly empty ice cream tub went clattering to the ground, not spilling thanks to some last second force intervention, he realised something was really wrong. His chest felt tight, and when he tried to rub at it to ease the discomfort, his arms refused to cooperate, remaining limp at his side, the spoon he was holding hitting the ground with a grating clink.

Trying not to overthink and assume the worst, he attempted to wiggle each finger one at a time, each with different levels of success. Panic building, he tried rolling each of his shoulders, then bending his elbows, neither with any responsiveness. He frowned, using his legs to push himself upright on the couch and assess further. His lower body seemed mostly functional, and he was relieved to feel tingling in his wrists, despite how cold he suddenly felt. A temporary problem then, but he must have already projected distress into the force because his master came literally sliding into the room, hair dishevelled and tunic still hanging sideways somewhat, socked feet slipping on the smooth floor. They blinked at one another silently for a few moments, calculating.

“Padawan?” Although his voice was rough, his masters voice was clearly concerned, and the man was frowning. He tried to offer up a smile, but it must have come out more like a grimace, because the older man only looked more concerned.

“What’s the matter Obi-Wan?” He noticed his own wording and shook his head, trying again. “Is it your legs?” Obi-Wan shook his head, and his master settled on the couch beside him with a soft sigh. “Your arms?” At his nod, his master set a gentle hand on his shoulder, pressing his thumb in gently.

As the feeling slowly returned to his arm, Obi-Wan focused on breathing through his nose, trying to keep himself relaxed despite the newly unpleasant sensation of the blood circulating his numb limbs, leaving behind an uncomfortable mix of freezing, terrifying cold, and overheated, feverish warmth. He shuddered, relieved when his shoulders spasmed. It shouldn’t have been a relief to feel the leftover shocks, but it meant he was feeling anything, and that was an improvement.

“Better?” He nodded, managing a genuine smile this time when his hand finally curled into a fist, pressing his nails lightly into his palm to test the nerves. He could barely feel it, but focused on his master instead, tilting his head in the directions of the kitchen, hoping he would grasp his message. Usually he felt guilty asking for the things he wanted, but if there was one thing he’d learned from his time in bed rest, his master enjoyed taking care of him, no matter how much he tried and failed to hide it. Sure enough, the older mans eyes brightened in recognition.

“Tea?” Obi-Wan nodded, and his master only looked more delighted. “Are you hungry?” Another nod, and Qui-Gon lit up like he’d been told he had free reign over a mission, resting a large hand in Obi-Wan’s hair for a moment before moving into the other room. Obi-Wan realised from the strange feeling of fingers running through his hair, that he was long overdue a haircut. Something else for him not to look forward to.

The silence felt strangely deafening, and he tapped the table beside him as best he could, his finger only responding to one out of the three taps he tried. His master gathered though, and offered him a smile, immediately taking up on the silent request for a one sided conversation.

“You know Obi-Wan, if we keep a close eye on your temperature and stress levels, Master Che has given me the go ahead to begin your less strenuous training.” Something in Obi-Wan lit up at the thought of being allowed to do his katas with his lightsaber again, but another part of him shrunk away from the idea of being in the public eye, literally making him curl back into his blankets, wishing he could pull them around his shoulders properly again, but forced to just sit and try to relax. As though sensing his distress, which was entirely possible, his master chuckled softly.

“No need to worry little one. All training will remain here for the time being. Although your friend…. what’s her name… ah yes Bant! Yes Bant has been looking for you, knocked at our door last night cycle when you were already asleep. She said not to leave her alone in history lessons any longer than necessary.” That drew a surprised snort out of Obi-Wan, and that was clearly what his master was looking for, because he returned to making what looked like scones. It was harder to tell from a distance, but Obi-Wan found the familiar motions soothing to watch nonetheless, listening as his master hummed random notes under his breath, and finding himself regretful of his locked voice. He wanted desperately to sing, let his emotions escape somehow, but his mouth may as well have been sewn shut, and he sighed softly, getting a concerned glance.

His master didn’t say anything else to him specifically, but filled the silence with old stories and random facts he knew, stopping Obi-Wan from sinking in his own mind. He was still startled by a warm plate settling in his lap, and realised he must have drifted away at some point, because there was a mug of tea on the table beside him, and his master had thoughtfully pulled his blanket closer around him.

They sat in silence for the rest of the morning, shoulders touching through Obi-Wan’s blanket in the easy contact that had become routine for them. It was slow going, eating his scone with trembling fingers, occasionally just scooping it with his palm rather than pick at the bits as he usually would.

He ended up falling asleep on his masters chest, no longer hungry, chest warm from tea, and shields finally feeling less like a prison cell holding him in his own mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? Anyone got more plot ideas? 👀


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gon goes for a drink and reflects.
> 
> Mace Windu is convinced his saber is far superior

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow updates aha... school is kicking my ass
> 
> Qui-Gon pov again

After spending the day with Obi-Wan as usual, monitoring his behaviours after the worrying shock aftermath from earlier that morning, Qui-Gon Jinn decided he could trust his padawan alone in their quarters for awhile while he met up with a few of the other masters to relax.

Usually, he wouldn’t trust Obi-Wan to take care of himself and remain in bed until his master returned, but the boy was staggering by the time they returned to their rooms, looking remarkably young with his growing tufts of ginger hair making him look remarkably alike to a baby lothcat.

Although Obi-Wan was still having issues with his coordination, sight and coiled tight shields, the boy had never looked as happy as when they finally went through a few relaxed katas in front of the window, enjoying the gentle warmth of the sun as they worked through them at a sedate pace. Obi-Wan would grind to a stop after every few exercises, clinging tightly to his blankets like they were the only thing anchoring him, and then calmly setting them back on the couch with trembling fingers, looking very much like he’d prefer to nest there for the day. As much as Qui-Gon wanted to indulge him, he knew the first steps to becoming a part of temple life again was readjusting to the things that had just been routine.

Qui-Gon had felt angry. He was angry at the unknown senator, still under trial at the senate building, for daring to lay a finger on his padawan. He was angry with himself, for being unable to help or support the boy through his nightmares, not knowing how to help him relax or make him feel safe. He’d felt vaguely useless as a master, knowing he’d allowed his padawan to be hurt in the first place.

So when Mace Windu asked him to join the other Masters for an evening together, he practically jumped on the opportunity to get out of the temple again, the guilt only setting in later, when he’d had time to think about Obi-Wan and how the boy might feel being alone again.

To his surprise and alarm, his padawan had just given him a large smile, looking delighted to hear that his master was leaving. He knew he’d been struggling with being left alone, so the sudden change of heart was shocking. But he still let the boy pretend, saying his thanks and even letting the ginger help him choose an outfit for the evening, his less worn robes somehow perfectly neat and soft, most likely by the boys own doing.

Sitting in the quiet bar, listening to Mace and Plo arguing softly about what lightsaber colour was more appealing visually, Qui-Gon let himself wonder just what he might have done to deserve such a loyal and loving padawan. He wasn’t exactly famous for being the perfect jedi, and still the force had chosen to give him Obi-Wan Kenobi, the brightest little spark in the temple by far, a light that would have been wasted in the agricorps. Qui-Gon hadn’t wanted a padawan, had spent a while during the little ones training seeing if he could simply shake him off by being aloof and cold.

Instead he’d found cups of tea left on the table for when he woke after a nightmare, plates of food outside his door if he hadn’t left his room for a while. He found himself with washed clothes, clean boots. Even before he realised what was going on, the boy had always let him come closer than others, despite the cold shoulder he was being given.

Something tipped over in a training session, what felt like eons ago, when Obi-Wan was pinned by his master in a spar, and had involuntarily flinched away, his chest heaving. Qui-Gon had helped the boy up and let him rest against his shoulder while he regained his breath, realising just how small and fragile the boy was. That night, when Obi-Wan had knocked on his door, trembling like a baby tooka, Qui-Gon welcomed him in, holding him close and brushing a gentle hand through buzzed hair, fixing his loose padawan braid that the little one had done himself. He’d realised how badly he’d neglected the boy.

Looking back on it now, as he took a sip of whatever vaguely alcoholic drink Mace had shoved at him, he was so grateful to the youngling that pulled him out of his own head. He was sure if it wasn’t for Obi-Wan he would have left the order after the betrayal of his master and the disaster of his previous padawans. But the boy had stayed, and he found himself smiling into his drink as he tuned back in to the conversation around him.

“And how, pray tell, is a singular purple blade better than two blue ones?” Plo, despite his mask, seemed to be smiling, his eyes lit up over their stupid argument that meant nothing to either of them.

“I do believe a green saber remains superior.” He offered a grin, sipping at the dregs in his glass as the argument started up all over again.

He felt content, and his padawans shaky presence in his mind was a gentle reminder that everything could be okay again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you think 👉🏼👈🏼


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan wakes up to darkness, and things only get worse from there

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry for the slower updates, school has left me super burnt out all the time 
> 
> Here’s some Obi-Wan whump to make up for it

He awoke to darkness.

Pure, all encompassing darkness, and his breathing hitched in surprise more than fear. Even his damaged sight hadn’t left him entirely during his capture, so this must be something else working to unhinge him. Trying to slip into a mission mindset despite the shaking he feels as he does so, he scans his body as best he can. He can feel his arms, although his left is still weak in comparison to his right, his legs don’t seemed to be restrained, and he can move his wrists at will. Safe to assume then, that the lights are simply out.

He reaches out in the force, and to his dawning realisation, discovers that the lights above his head are supposed to be illuminating the entire room. There’s more lights than there should be, his and his masters quarters only contain two, and his weak connection with the force shatters, leaving him in darkness once more. There wasn’t a single sound in the room, nor a single sign of movement, and he had no way of understanding where he was or what was happening. The only soft sound that reached his ears was the unsteady whispering of his own breaths, echoing in the eerie room. He shifted to sit up, leaning back as far as he could before his back hit something vaguely solid. A pillow, it seemed, and he let himself release all his air in one puff.

Not even footsteps in the distance came to break the silence, and Obi-Wan started to feel dauntingly alone again. At least on hoth, there had been the cold discomfort to keep him company, the burning aftershocks to keep him awake.

Now he just lay, listening to the sound of his own rasping breaths, unable to reach out in the force for help or even call out. He felt trapped by his own mind once more, no physical restraints needed as he reached up to try claw at his neck, centre himself using the pain. Something scratchy burnt his fingers and he whimpered quietly, the sound echoing strangely around him, seeming to bounce back at him, pounding in his head. No matter how desperately he tried to sink into the force, his own mental shields slammed into him, leaving him reeling back in the darkness. He tried again and again, growing gradually less composed as he realised he couldn’t escape his self-made hell.

Maybe somebody would come?

No. He was alone, left in this room for whatever reason, not restrained, but controlled. His shaking hands drifted to his head, clutching at his short hairs, rocking slightly as he curled in on himself, his limbs trembling with aftershocks even now. The weak grip on his hair did nothing, and he barely swallowed down a scream of panic, scrambling desperately for his Jedi calm. It had left him, leaving him to fend for himself against an enemy he couldn’t even see.

Raspy sobs reached his ears, and he knew somewhere in the back of his mind that they must be his own, but he couldn’t stop them bubbling over, spilling down his cheeks onto his hands as he rubbed at his eyes, the feeling dampened by something. It could have been bandages, or cuffs, he didn’t know or care anymore.

There was no holding himself back, and the weeks of silence spilled over into a long scream, exploding out of him in a wave of grief and anger as he shook, loud crashing and scraping finally replacing the silence that tormented him. He didn’t know what the sound was, didn’t have the strength left to care. The screaming finally came to a stop and he sobbed quietly, clutching at his chest as he heaved for air, feeling empty and numb without the emotions he usually had bottled up, stored. With a soft sniffle, he lay his head on his knees, resigning himself to the silence once more, knowing there was nothing he could do to stop it without the force.

In a last ditch effort, he yelled for his master in his mind, clinging to the nothingness that was his own shields. He could have been yelling aloud too, he wouldn’t know, because a ringing in his ears made him hiccup, searching sadly for any response, needing so badly for his master to acknowledge him, to respond or show some sign of caring for him.

Silence from his master too.

For the first time since he was in the crèche, Obi-Wan Kenobi hated the Jedi with all of his being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel so bad for him oops 🙈


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gon, hungover from a rare relaxing night, finally notices something isn’t quite right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the really vague update schedule.
> 
> I’m going to say from now on expect updates at the very least every Sunday, with bonus updates if I’m productive

Qui-Gon Jinn woke to a slamming headache and the smell of stale redonian lager.

He groaned, pulling himself upright on a sofa. Who’s sofa, he wasn’t sure, rubbing his eyes and blinking to stop the room spinning.

A jedi master with a hangover. How proper of him.

Huffing a laugh at his own bad judgement, he shuffled into the small kitchenette at the other side of the room. To no surprise, he found Mace nursing a mug of caff, leaning heavily on the counter top like his life depended on it.

“Morning, Master Windu!” he felt a grin tug at his lips as the young council master scowled, looking very much like he would enjoy punching him in the face.

“Go kriff yourself, Jinn.” The man even sounded rough, and it sent Qui-Gon into a soft laughter fit. Although his eye roll suggested anger, Mace was grinning too, hiding the involuntary motion behind his mug. Qui-Gon pulled the box of standard issue tea from the cupboard, throwing a bag in a random mug and pouring hot water over it. As he waited for it to stew, he reached out to his padawan, his head aching with even the slight use of the force. Abandoning that effort for the time being, he huffed.

“So who else is unconscious in your quarters? Or am only I graced with your presence this fine morning.” That earned him another scowl, and he offered his friend a shit eating grin.

“Only you drank yourself quite so stupid. Yoda went home an hour in, Plo was still perfectly sober, Ki Adi could be anywhere for all I know. I’m pretty sure he went home. So yes, you’re graced with some wonderful alone time with me.” The sarcasm from the other master was practically palpable, and Qui-Gon flicked the man on the side of the head with a smirk.

“My my Windu, somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bunk.” He knew really he should stop pushing his luck, but he found it far too amusing to watch his friend take a long breath in, releasing it in a huff of annoyance, and then sip his caff calmly.

“Go away Jinn, I’m sure you’ve got better things to be doing today.” Qui-Gon laughed to himself even as he left the kitchenette, sipping at his hot tea and sighing at the instant relief it offered his parched tongue, gathering his robes from the couch and shrugging them on over his crumpled tunic, shifting about until they settled properly on his shoulders. His lightsaber was still on his belt, untouched, and he clipped it back onto his waist with a smile. The force seemed to be trying to warn him of something, but for the time being he ignored it, intending on meditating on it later with Obi-Wan. They both had plenty to work through next time they meditated. With a last shouted goodbye over his shoulder, which got him a ruffled growl as a response, he let himself out of the organised quarters, whistling to himself as he wandered calmly back to his own rooms. He sipped his tea contentedly, knowing full well he would never remember to return to mug to his friend and frankly not caring. Mace would come retrieve it from his cupboard at some point, as was usual whenever Qui-Gon borrowed anything.

He keyed his door open and frowned.

It was completely silent, and although there were neatly folded robes thrown over the back of the sofa, there were no other signs of his padawan having been there. He didn’t have classes until next week, he was on recovery from the mission, so there should have at least been some boots by the door or dishes in the sink. There was nothing, his meditation cushion was neatly tucked away by the window, his bedroom door was shut. Even his mug, which usually ended up on the side table, was settled in the drying rack, meaning he hadn’t been back at least since last night, if not somewhat earlier.

Setting his own mug down on the counter, he sat heavily on the couch and let his eyes slip closed, reaching out into the force. He was barricaded for a moment by the soft ball of signatures that was the halls of the temple before he reached out through the bond, threading the frayed ends together carefully. His padawan felt stronger in the force, and he frowned again, the knowledge only making him more worried. Obi-Wan had showed no trust in the force for many many days, so the random spark of energy wasn’t necessarily a good, healing sign.

A burning sensation overtook him, and he jerked a little in surprise, his eyes flying open to darkness. He knew it was early morning, and the light had been shining through the window only moments ago, but now there was nothing to be seen. He tried to control himself a little more, and his vision returned.

Which meant Obi-Wan was the one who was in trouble.

Cursing his damned hangover for muting Obi-Wan’s plea for help, he swung over the back of the sofa and sprinted out into the hallway, no direction in mind other than the feeble cries of a padawan who desperately wanted his master.

Something was terribly wrong with his padawan, and he intended to find out what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did I do 👉🏼👈🏼


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan settles enough to think things through logically, and it helps him see things a little more clearly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!
> 
> So the next few chapters are gonna be a little shorter, they just made sense to be broken up that way

Obi-Wan was slowly getting used to the silence.

Once the burning had gone away, his vision had returned enough for him to make out vague shapes around him. It seemed he was in some sort of medical room in the temple, the brickwork familiar despite the blurriness.

He’d started counting the minutes between each spasm as something to do. They ranged from twice in three minutes to one every six. It was strange and irregular, but he made sure to remember it in case it became important later. He was sure they should have at least muted slightly by now.

His own breathing was too loud, but now that some of his shields had slipped down, he could do a few of his old meditation exercises for when he had too much energy and couldn’t relax. The familiarity to it made his fingers stop tapping, his leg stilling on the bed after a slight spasm. 

Even his weak connection to the force felt incredible, washing over him in shallow little waves, lapping at his metaphorical toes. He’d discovered he could feel the training bond again, for whatever reason, and he clung tight to the distant feeling of panic from his master. Maybe the man did care... he was able to think slightly more logically now, his brain quiet enough for him to look past his insecurities and see the more likely truth. His master had said he was going for drinks with the other masters. Chances were he’d crashed at one of their quarters, and was too far away to hear his weak call into the force.

The shields were beginning to annoy him. When he’d frantically constructed them in that cold little cell, his only thought was keeping the senator out. He didn’t remember how he’d made them, or unfortunately how to take them down again.

He’d tested his voice again, but no sounds came out other than a soft hum.

Using that to his advantage, he’d started carefully unbraiding and rebraiding his padawan braid, gentle and careful with each bead, placed close enough that he could see their blurry forms on the bed. His humming made the task soothing, despite their being no real tune or even thought behind the soft notes, and he happily carried on for an untracked amount of time. He didn’t notice the two minor spasms in his arms, too focused on feeling out where each bead went using the force rather than his limited eyesight.

Throat scratchy after even the slight use, he eventually himself stop and tie off the braid wherever it was up to, content that all the beads were back in place. Somehow, he would have to ask his master to redo it for him later, it was no doubt wonky and uneven. Nonetheless, the familiar routine had settled him, and he relaxed into a loose lotus position to wait for his master.

He knew he would come for him, he just had to be a little more patient for a little longer.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bant does her best, but the sight of a frazzled Qui-Gon Jinn was enough to scare anybody really

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! So this is probably the only time I’ll do a pov that isn’t our boys, but it just made sense for this chapter to be from an outsiders pov!

Bant knew from the first glance at the jedi master there was no time to call Master Che.

The wild eyes and dishevelled hair were those of a man far less controlled than Master Qui-Gon Jinn, and she allowed herself a brief moment to be afraid of his unbalanced state before she was pushing the feeling away and schooling herself into a healers calm mindset, not a biased one afraid for a friend.

“Is he here?” the man sounded as rough as he looked and Bant struggled not to wince at the painful clearing of his throat that followed. She handed him a flimsi cup of water from the little waiting area and beckoned him over with one webbed hand. She didn’t need to ask to know why Jinn was here, had brought Obi-Wan to the healers ward herself after finding him on the floor in their quarters, his bleeding arm clutched to his chest and his eyes empty.

She didn’t intend for him to be placed in a private room, but Master Che deemed it the best move, and she had no rights as a healer in training to go against her. The memory of his blank stare made her shiver. Her friend hated loneliness, but there was simply nothing that she could do. She hoped he was at least comfortable in the bed. 

“He’s in there, Master. But you must calm down before you enter. Obi-Wan isn’t entirely well, and he may not recognise you if you go storming in like this.” She dared a moment of insubordination, standing on her toes to straighten the shoulders of his tunic to make him look at least slightly composed. Jinn physically shook himself and ran a hand through his hair, only succeeding in messing it up further. She huffed in exasperation and tugged him gently until he crouched in front of her, confused frown on his face. Careful not to pull on the knotted strands, knowing Obi-Wan would fix it once he was healthier, she bundled all the hair into a messy bun at the base of his neck.

“There.” She stepped back with a satisfied smile. He seemed to steel himself before he gave her a tight smile in return and stepped into the room. She was forced to turn around and walk away knowing Obi-Wan would be safe now. Maybe she would leave a gift for him in their quarters.

She would do that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know very much about Bant, I sorta had to wing it rip  
> I hope it reads okay nonetheless!


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon try to break down some of Obi-Wan’s shields. They aren’t entirely successful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry this update is a little late! I got sidetracked with some other stories and couldn’t think of where to go with this one oops
> 
> Qui-Gon pov for this chapter

Qui-Gon wasn’t too proud to admit he had to pause a moment in the doorway at the sight of his padawan.

The boy was pale, his eyes rimmed by a dull sort of purple blue colour and his lips chapped. He appeared to be meditating, his body bent in a loose lotus, but his eyebrows were furrowed tight, suggesting to the master that he wasn’t entirely succeeding in his quest. He cleared his throat gently, wincing at the way Obi-Wan’s eyes flew open, revealing the shade too light blue eyes that stared for a moment at the wall to his left before fixing on him.

He tilted his head slightly, then one corner of his mouth tugged up in a lopsided grin that suggested he’d been recognised.

“Hello little one.” The boy relaxed noticeably at the nickname and shifted along up the bed before patting vaguely at the space in front of him in a clear invitation. Taking the hint, he crossed the room in a few strides, lowering his weight onto the bed carefully so he wouldn’t startle his skittish padawan. The boy showed no signs of panic, in fact, eased up slightly at his side, his shoulders relaxing into a more comfortable sitting position with his elbows on his knees.

“Do you know where we are?” yes or no questions. Qui-Gon had learned quickly over the last week or so that easy questions where verbal answers weren’t required always made Obi-Wan more comfortable, no matter the circumstances.

A slight nod, a frown, then a hand wave. It took him a couple of moments to translate the vague gestures.

“You want me to elaborate?” A little nod. He smiled.

“We’re in a private room in the temple med bay. I’m not entirely sure why, Young Bant wouldn’t tell me.” His padawan looked alarmed, then a puzzled look crossed his face, a brief feeling of confusion echoing in the force before being snatched away behind his tight shields again.

Three taps on his arm made him huff quietly in surprise.

Their sign for “force and meditation” hadn’t been used since they created it, always making Obi-Wan panic or pointedly change the subject whenever Qui-Gon brought it up.

“Are you sure, padawan? It could be a bad idea-" Obi-Wan put a finger on his lips and he blinked in surprise, struggling not to grin at the moments of Obi-Wan’s mischievous old attitude peeking through.

“Alright Alright. May I hold your hands?” he assumed he would be allowed, but it was always better to check. Obi-Wan nodded after a moment, and he wrapped the boys cold fingers up in his own hands, easily engulfing them with even one, making the boy laugh softly, eyes twinkling slightly.

They sank back into the force almost simultaneously, but Qui-Gon fell much further before being cushioned by the usual shields he kept around his own mind for security. Obi-Wan was struggling, a soft grunt of irritation echoing in the startling emptiness of the room. He tugged gently on the boys force signature, wrapping around him in the metaphysical plane, not just the physical one. Obi-Wan, forever brave and trusting, let his shields drop all at once with a choked gasp. He had a feeling it would have been a scream if he had the strength. He held him tighter, knowing all his memories, all his force sensitivity would come rushing back to him all at once without the heavy barricade he’d been carrying for weeks.

The boy was trembling with effort to try and hide the influx of memories from his master, making Qui-Gon hush him gently and run a hand through his short hair in an attempt to reassure him. It wouldn’t work if Obi-Wan tried to hide things from him, the shields would only build back up over time. Obi-Wan nonetheless continued to block him out, meaning Qui-Gon was forced to pull away, blinking his eyes open slowly. He found Obi-Wan frowning, furrowed in concentration, his limbs shaking with effort. Sighing softly, he gently shook the boy until he blinked hazy eyes open.

“We’ll try again later. You’re very tired young one, you should sleep.” He laces the words with suggestion and although the boy scowls at him, he curls up close, latching on to his robes with a surprisingly tight grip. Qui-Gon rocks the boy gently until he falls asleep.


End file.
